Perfect
by Losille2000
Summary: Anxious for an exit from a sticky situation, Evie returns to the US to take care of her estranged father's last wishes after his untimely death. What she finds in the small town where her father lived is something she never expected, but it turns out to be perfect. AU ALL HUMAN. Steve Rogers/OC primarily.
1. Prologue

_A/N: This story involves the Avengers as ALL HUMAN characters. No super heroes, gods, etc, though you will see how I've worked their characters into the AU. This fiction is merely a labor of love for a friend, but I thought I'd share it to see if others get enjoyment from it._

_Any bits of canon used in this will be related to the new movie series. In some cases, I have used different names for characters based on their alter egos throughout the Marvel comics. Most notably, these are for Johann Schmidt (John Smith) and Thor (Donald Blake)._

_If you do choose to join me on this journey, please enjoy!_

**Prologue**

Evie sighed and pushed a piece of long hair off her sweaty forehead. She stopped a moment to pull off the elastic holding the pony on the back of her head, securing it once more with all her hair, but even she knew the action was futile. The bangs, along with the shortest layer, would just come out of the holder again. She thought for a moment to locate her purse and rummage through it for a bobby pin or two, but she didn't want to ruin the rhythm she had started packing up the last of the field research equipment she'd been using on this last dig. And frankly, losing the rhythm would only make her remember her anger.

After all, it was only a few short hours ago when she'd walked into her mentor's office to find him in a romantic embrace with his wife. This wouldn't have been terrible—and honestly, no one would think twice about such a thing—if said mentor had not told her many months ago he had ended it with his wife. Evie would have never let him and his English charms woo her into his bed if she had known he had never done it. Relatively attractive, obscenely learned and intelligent, he had seemed like the perfect man. He even had a sexy, posh London accent to boot. She'd thought she'd struck gold when in actuality it was just like the prehistoric shit she'd been slogging through for her research.

At least she had enough research that she could just return all this to the university and shut herself away for an extended period of time. Because she would need A LOT of time to recover from this. If she had to face this man on her review board any sooner, she knew she wouldn't be able to do it.

With one final slam of the heavy lid on the crate carrying a few of the expensive cameras, she flicked the latches into place and hauled it out to the awaiting university van. Her research assistant looked at her dubiously as she pushed the door shut and let out a low, angry growl.

"What's made you so grumpy?" Charlie asked from under her heavy brown fringe. The kid needed a haircut. Badly. But she wondered if Charlie didn't hold the power of her assistant skills within the unshorn locks, because she was probably one of the best assistants Evie had ever had the pleasure of working with.

"Don't want to talk about it," she remarked.

"Dr. Smith got your knickers in a twist again?" Charlie pressed. She knew everything. It was difficult to hide such a prominent relationship from the person you worked with daily. She'd never made any indication that the association made her uncomfortable. But that was Charlie. She liked remaining neutral and let you sink your own boat if you really wanted.

Which was exactly what happened. _How could I have been so stupid?_

Evie grumbled again and brushed the ever errant pieces of hair from her forehead. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," Charlie said. She dropped the cigarette she'd been smoking onto the ground, stamping it out with a rain-booted foot.

"I really hope you weren't doing that around the samples," she said.

"I wasn't," Charlie said. "What do you take me for? An amateur?"

Evie rolled her eyes. "I don't know what to think anymore."

"He must have done you over good," Charlie replied, shaking her head. "You just want this stuff returned?"

"Yeah," Evie replied.

"And the results?" she questioned.

"I will not be working out of my office at the university," Evie replied. "You can deliver them to my flat."

Dr. Smith's office was only two doors down and it would be too easy to run into each other. She didn't want to face that awkwardness. She could still make the classes she taught without having to face him. She hoped, anyway.

Charlie sighed and shook her head. "Have you at least learned something from this fiasco?"

"Never trust a man," Evie replied.

"You're going to live a sad, lonely life if you keep thinking that," Charlie said. "I know men are a handful sometimes, but maybe you just aren't picking the right ones?"

Evie huffed. Of course she was picking the right ones... it wasn't her fault they just turned out so wrong. She knew she wanted an important, academically-minded man who could hold his own in a conversation with her. Not some slimy Eurotrash guy they ran into whenever Charlie convinced her to go to the club.

"Take this stuff back to the university," she said. "I'm going to my flat. If you need me, you know where to find me."

"Fucking ay," Charlie huffed. "By the way, there was a call on your mobile that I took while you were yelling at Dr. Smith."

Charlie produced a slip of paper with the number and a name scrawled beneath it. The number was American, the area code from Arizona.

"Donald Blake?" Evie asked.

Charlie shrugged. "He didn't say anything else. He said you needed to call him. It was an emergency."

Evie blanched at the thought, reaching for the cell phone in her jeans pocket. She dialed the codes and soon the line was buzzing. It picked up on the fourth ring.

"Yavapai Regional Medical Center, this is Angela speaking," said the perky voice on the other end. Evie looked at her watch, trying to rapidly compute the time difference. It had to be early morning there.

"Uh, yeah, I'm calling for Donald Blake?" Evie asked.

"Dr. Blake is on another call," Angela spoke. "Oh, wait, he just clicked off. May I say who's calling?"

"Elizabeth Coulson," she said.

"One moment," the girl said and placed her on hold.

A few short moments passed. "Hello, Ms. Coulson," said the deep, powerfully commanding voice of the man on the other end. "Do you have a moment to speak with me?"

"I can't stay on long. This is an international call," she said.

"Certainly," Dr. Blake said, his voice serious. "You are the daughter of Phil Coulson?"

"Yes," she said, feeling her heart rise in her throat. Evie lowered onto the bumper involuntarily, feeling her legs weakening.

"I'm very sorry to tell you like this over the phone, but Mr. Coulson passed away last night," he said.

Her heart stopped beating for a moment.

"What?" she asked.

"Your father passed away due to complications related to his cancer," he explained.

"Cancer?" The wind effectively stolen from her sails, Evie leaned over herself. How could he have cancer? No one had told her. Her father hadn't even let her know. Granted, the last time they spoke had been many years ago, and that conversation had ended in a blowout argument. But still, this was something you told your only child.

"You were not aware of his cancer?" the doctor said.

"No."

"He listed you as next of kin," Dr. Blake replied. "We followed his DNR on file."

Evie felt tears stinging the backs of her eyes. She wanted to cry. There was a hard lump of emotion stuck in her throat, but she couldn't make herself cry. This was just so unbelievable.

"I..." she said and swallowed around the lump. "Oh, god... what do I have to do?"

"That is entirely up to you," he replied. "I will have our patient liaison call you and speak with you about your father's last wishes."

"Thank you." She hung up the phone and stared at it. Somewhere in her periphery, she could hear Charlie's voice. Finally, she looked up at her friend, seeing her mouth moving, but not making sense of the words.

All the sound returned suddenly and Charlie was kneeling in front of her. "What's wrong? What happened? Are you okay?"

"I-I don't know," Evie replied. "My father died."

"Your father?" Charlie asked. "The one you don't have a good relationship with?"

Evie clenched her jaw. "I have to go back to Arizona. I'm his next of kin."

"There aren't any other family members?" she asked.

"No," Evie said. "I feel sick."

Charlie jumped up and left her only to return with a cold water bottle. "Sip it. Stay sitting. Is there something I can do?"

Evie did as instructed and shook her head numbly. "I have to go."

"Then go," Charlie said. "Term hasn't started yet. They'll find someone else to cover your courses if you have to be there awhile. Do what you have to do... if they say anything about it, then fuck 'em all."

"Thanks, Charlie," she replied.

"I'm taking you back to your flat before I go to the university," she said. "You're not driving like this."

Evie looked up at her friend's steely grey eyes. They brooked no argument. She wasn't going to protest either.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Evie wanted to scream. After touching down on the tarmac at Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix and then arriving in Prescott an hour so later, her life had been an unending stream of people she did not know. They were all there to mourn her father, all more grief stricken than she felt. It had been a shock, yes, and she still didn't believe it had happened, but her grief had not come. She could not cry; she could not convince herself to wallow in misery of having lost a parent. It made her feel both inhuman and terrible to not have any strong emotion about the event.

She watched the lines of people her father had touched throughout his life, which were apparently numerous, and envied them and their relationship with him. They'd never been close. After her parents split up at the age of three, she received a birthday card with some money in it every year. She had visited Arizona all of three times in her thirty years of life. And the last time... the last time they'd had the biggest fight in the world. It was probably over something stupid, but she couldn't for the life of her remember what it was about now. All she knew was that they never got along. He always accused her of being too much like her mother. Evie had never considered that a fault, though he obviously did.

Now here she stood, attempting to appear the pained daughter when frankly, it was almost a relief to know that he was gone. She didn't have to endure any more stilted conversation or show him any modicum of love simply because they shared the same DNA.

When at last the final guest at the memorial service reception left the hall at the church, she let out a long, ragged breath. She was ready to go back to her hotel and sleep. Maybe a clearer head devoid of jet lag would make the world seem a better place once she felt rested. Evie looked at the table across the room askance, noting how many cards had been left. The banquet table beside it still overflowed with food from all the support, some of the dishes completely untouched. She'd studied the rituals of grief and death in many of her college courses. She knew, scientifically, why people did this. And yet it still boggled her mind that they actually did do it. Five pans of tuna noodle casserole were not going to help anyone.

There were people moving around and cleaning up, but all she could do was slump into the nearest chair and let out a heaving sigh. She watched the kind helpers work quietly and efficiently as she relaxed her brain. This wasn't even the difficult part. That would come when she finally made it out to his ranch and began closing up shop.

As she thought it, a pair of well worn brown leather riding boots fell into her line of sight. She lifted her head, following the path of jean clad legs to a trim hips, a starched white button down tucked carefully into the waist of said jeans which were slung dangerously low on the hips. Her gaze passed over the smooth, tanned skin of the man's neck to a face she had not expected. She'd met every cowboy imaginable in the past two days. All of them looked so weathered. So sad. So old. Not at all like Hollywood portrayed them.

But this man... he was worthy of a romance novel cover. He was clean shaven with a strong, square jaw and perfectly bowed lips. Long, feathery dark lashes blinked over his blue-gray eyes. His hair wasn't gelled, but it stayed in its place, perfectly cut short at the back and sides of his head and longer at the top. If asked later to describe him-and she was sure she would, seeing as she was taking her own sweet time drinking up the sight of him-she would say he looked All-American. Wholesome. Cleancut. Conservative. He was a laborer. A man who worked with his body and hands. He wasn't the type of man she usually felt any attraction for, but she wasn't one to ignore beauty when it stood before her.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Ma'am," said the strong, smooth voice. His voice was plain and unremarkable, like others from the Southwest. "I'm sorry I'm late... we had an emergency out at the ranch. A horse foaled this morning and had some difficulty."

Evie blinked her eyes. He could have been speaking Greek to her for all she knew, but if he had, she would have understood it.

"I'm your father's ranch manager," he remarked.

She blinked again. "Oh, yes, you're Mr. Rogers. The lawyer mentioned you."

"Steve, please," he replied.

He looked very young to be in charge of a working ranch, but what did she know? Running a ranch couldn't be that difficult.

"Steve," she said. "I'm sorry... I..."

"Oh, I don't mean to bother you," he said. "I know what you must be going through. I just wanted to introduce myself and pay my respects."

"T-thank you," she replied.

"When do you think you'll be coming out?" he asked. "So I can have a room ready?"

"Tomorrow? I don't know... things are so mixed up right now," she said. "Soon."

He nodded his head and sighed. "Take your time and the room will be ready for you when you get out there."

Evie nodded. He gave her a small, sad smile. It was pity in his eyes, but she didn't know what the pity was directed at... the fact that she had successfully faked her grief or that she didn't really want to be here handling this. Still, though, she had to remind herself this was better than the problems currently facing her back home.

She watched him walk away, noting that the posterior was just as beautiful as the anterior, but she quickly shook her head. There had to be some rule about thinking things like this at your father's funeral. She waited until he was out the door before standing up and looking around. She had to go find the priest and make sure everything was settled. Then she planned to return to her hotel to shut the world away.

* * *

Steve sighed and shook his head as he stepped out of the church meeting hall. He didn't know what to make of Phil's daughter. She was as beautiful as Phil had always described with all that black hair and those piercing green eyes. But her eyes weren't red rimmed as one would expect in this situation. He could plainly see she hadn't been crying, and he had a feeling it wasn't because she had a stiff upper lip. He'd been close enough with Phil over the years to know that the bond between father and daughter had never really been forged. It was one of Phil's biggest regrets in the last months of his life. However, he didn't get the feeling from her that she regretted it. It felt like she preferred being cold and that she wanted to be any other place in the world but having to deal with this. She thought this was a waste of her time. A nuisance.

To her credit, though, she had come all the way from England to do her duty as his daughter. Steve had wondered if she would, given the history he knew. He wouldn't have been surprised if all the last wishes and details had been left to him to make. She was here, and that's what mattered. He only now had to worry about what would happen to the ranch as she seemed even less enthused about going out there than she did having to sit in the church for the memorial service.

Steve shook his head again and blew air through his lips. Standing here and worrying about it wasn't going to do him any good. He left Sacred Heart church and turned down Gurley Street in the direction of Montezuma and Whiskey Row. Everyone would be meeting at their favorite bar after the services to toast the man they all loved.

He was thankful that the fall had come early this year for Prescott and the slight chill in the air felt good on his face as the briskness of his pace ruffled his hair. He turned right on Montezuma, at the historic Hotel St Michael. He walked down Whiskey Row to The Bird Cage and stepped inside. It was a small, outdated looking bar, but it added to its charm and that was exactly why the owners kept it that way. As he had expected, all the typical suspects were already there with drinks in hand, though the atmosphere wasn't as lively as it usually was. The football games on the television were turned down and forgotten as they all stared off into space.

Steve stepped up to the bar and sat on a stool. Clint, the owner, tossed a towel over his shoulder and stepped over to him. "Usual?"

"Something stronger?" Steve asked.

Clint nodded and placed two shot glasses on the bar. He grabbed the Jack Daniels from the shelves behind him and poured the shots. Clint took one, held it up until Steve grabbed his and clinked the small glasses. Steve swallowed the liquid like it was water, not caring about the slight burn down his throat. Clint poured one more shot glass and left the bottle on the counter.

"Drink what you want. It's on the house today," he said.

"Thanks," Steve replied. He took the other shot and downed it in a gulp. It felt good coursing through him.

Steve pulled his cell phone from his pocket, verifying that no one at the ranch had tried to reach him. He sighed and put the device away.

"So what do you think of his daughter?"

Steve looked up from the bar and focused on the two dark-haired men at a table a few feet away. Bruce sat with his friend, Tony. Steve still didn't know how they could be friends. Bruce was quiet and unassuming, a real genius when it came to science and teaching kids. Tony, on the other hand, was loud, arrogant and perpetually drunk. He had no gainful employment but to sit at the bar all day and sometimes show up to community events. Word was he was a self-made man with gobs of money— from something having to do with technology—and had come to Prescott Valley to get away from life's pressures. The odd couple didn't even come close to describing their fondness for each other, but they seemed to understand one another, especially when they started talking about science and technology.

"I only spoke to her for a few minutes," Steve replied. "She seemed fine."

"Fine," Bruce said. "That's the problem, I think... Tony and I couldn't put our finger on it, but it's like she doesn't care."

"That's because she doesn't," another voice with a slight Russian accent popped up behind them. Steve glanced at the front door. Natasha, Clint's partner, carried with her a platter of food, most likely from the funeral. He hadn't seen her when he stopped by, though. She brushed back a strand of curly red hair and made her way around the back of the bar.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked.

Natasha sighed. "I heard her talking to the priest. She couldn't get out of there fast enough. All through the service it was like she resented the fact that this had prevailed on her time. I don't get a good feeling about her."

"I'm sure she's not as bad as you think," Steve replied. "We just don't know her."

"You shouldn't automatically think the best of everyone," Natasha remarked. "My intuition tells me she's bad news."

Clint looked up from filling another pint of beer for one of the other patrons in the bar. "Nat, you shouldn't have been listening into the conversation anyway. Isn't that sort of private information?"

Natasha shot him a murderous glare. She was famous for knowing everyone's dirty laundry, whether they wanted it known or not. A lot of it she blamed on her intuition, but most of it was because she always seemed to overhear things. Steve knew how life stories found a way of spilling out of drunken mouths, but he was also aware that she didn't restrict her eavesdropping to the bar.

She disappeared in the back, presumably to put her things away. Clint merely shook his head when the door closed a little more forcefully than was strictly necessary. "Thanks, Steve, now I got that to deal with tonight."

"She'll get over it," Steve remarked and downed another shot. His brain was slowly becoming fuzzy and he was feeling better, but he knew he had to stop himself if he planned to drive back to the ranch. Though he wanted to stay and drown his sorrows, without Phil at the ranch, complete management had been left him. Everything seemed to be going a little haywire since Phil had been placed in the hospice a month ago.

He stood from his seat and dropped a tip on the bar, even though Clint had refused his money. "Alright, I'm out of here. We still on for the harvest festival meeting this week?"

"Are we still going to do it?" Bruce asked.

Steve narrowed his eyes. "Just because Phil isn't here doesn't mean we have to cancel. There's no reason to not do it. Do we still have funding, Stark?"

Tony looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. "Huh? Oh, yeah," he slurred. "We're still a go."

"Then I'll be here at eight as planned," he replied, "whether you're all here or not."

Steve left the bar with a nod of his head, ready to go home. He knew they would all be there, despite their surprise that he still planned to put on the festival in Phil's absence. This year would be very difficult for everyone participating, knowing how much Phil lived for this celebration, but he knew the best option was to carry on and keep Phil in their hearts.

However, as he climbed into his truck and shut the door, he wondered what trouble he would receive from Phil's daughter. Despite his optimistic outlook, he too got a bad feeling about her that he tried desperately to ignore. He was not looking forward to the day when she did deign to show up at the ranch.


	3. Chapter 2

_Thank you all for reading. _

**Chapter 2**

Evie yawned into her hand as she made her way down to the restaurant for breakfast the following morning. She took the stairs instead of climbing into the ancient, rickety elevator which clearly hadn't been serviced since the early twentieth century. There was a very real chance she might die if she stepped inside, and it wasn't a risk she was currently willing to take. Her historian brain wanted to get in and ride it again for the experience, but her self-preservation refused to let her.

She made it down to the lobby and gave the clerk at the desk a tight smile. The clerk couldn't have been more than eighteen. She'd been at the memorial service the day before. She'd remember the purple hair and numerous piercings anywhere.

"Hello," the clerk spoke softly.

"Good morning," Evie said and made it back into the restaurant. The hostess seated her near a window and she ordered a pot of tea. While she waited for the tea to arrive, she looked out on the sidewalk. It looked pretty dead this morning, but she figured most everyone was still in bed asleep this early on a Sunday. It was nice to let her mind relax by staring unblinkingly into the empty street.

However, the cell phone buzzed in her pocket just after the tea had been delivered. There was a text from Charlie.

_Have the results from the samples. Email?_

Evie replied back. _Yeah, that's best._

Almost instantaneously: _Are you sure you don't want me to come out there?_

_Don't you have classes?_

_No._

_What do you mean, "no."_

_I quit._

_What?_

_Cannot explain over phone. Must do it in person._

_You just want a vacation._

_And if I do?_

_You're not going to get a whole lot of vacation out here. It's so... rural. _

_I can do rural. You forget I cut my teeth in the wilds of Africa and Asia following my parents around on their travels._

_Oh, yes, I know. Wise, learned explorer._

_Don't you forget it. I'm so Indiana Jones._

_Who does that make me?_

_Marcus Brody._

_I reject your assertion. I will not get lost in my own museum._

_You can reject it all you want, but you know it's true._

_I don't even want to know how much this text war is going to cost me. Do you really want to come out here?_

_You got water and electricity?_

_Presumably._

_I'm on the first flight out._

_Call me when you get in._

Evie couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips. It felt good to have some humor back after the past few days. Though she knew Charlie shouldn't come out, she also knew that having her here would lighten the mood and make the situation easier to deal with. Charlie was a champion comedian and would keep her laughing.

Evie set her phone back on the table and reached for the cup of tea, sipping the hot liquid carefully. It wasn't as good as the custom blend loose leaf she had back home, but it would do for now. Her eyes drifted back out onto the street and she again switched off her brain.

She was on her second cup when a long shadow fell across the small table. Looking away from the window and up at the intruder, she found a tall man standing beside her table. What was it with men in this town just appearing out of nowhere?

"Yes?" she asked.

"Hello," said the man in a pleasantly smooth English accent.

Evie perked up. It reminded her of home.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but Mr. Helstern, the attorney for your father's estate, said that I might run into you here," he replied.

Evie blinked at the man. "And you are?"

"Loki Laufeyson," he replied. "Owner of Laufeyson Developments."

"And I'm a monkey's uncle," she replied, hoping the sarcasm was loud and clear. Who the heck named their child Loki?

He laughed. It was full and rich, but it was also somewhat stilted and fake. "Well, that's not the worst reaction I've ever heard about my name. Probably the funniest."

"How did you come by it?" she asked.

He motioned to the empty seat across from her. She nodded and sat up slightly as he folded his long limbs into the chair.

"My father thought it would be humorous with our surname to name me Loki," he replied. "I've hated him ever since."

"At least it's memorable."

He grinned again. "And what should I call you?"

"Evie," she replied.

"Mr Helstern said Elizabeth," he replied.

"Elizabeth Victoria. Evie."

He nodded and set his newspaper down on the table. "Mr. Helstern also said you might be looking to sell your father's ranch."

Evie frowned. "Isn't that attorney-client privileged information? I haven't decided anything officially."

Loki looked at her with serious eyes. He was handsome in the bookish way she found so attractive, but there was something else as she gazed at his serious eyes she didn't quite like. "I suppose he did get a little loquacious on the subject when he shouldn't have, but is it true?"

"I am weighing all my options right now," she replied. "I haven't even been out to the ranch yet to see if it's in my interest to sell it."

"I'm prepared to make a very lucrative offer on the property to buy you out," he said. "Please, just let me know if you're interested."

From within his jacket pocket he withdrew a case. Inside the case was a stack of business cards. He handed one to her and smiled again. Evie looked at the card. It was plain off white linen with raised black lettering. A stylistic "L" in Laufeyson Developments was in black, green and gold ink.

"Has the name ever prevented you from closing any business deals?" she asked.

He looked at her curiously. "The people I usually deal with don't often have any knowledge of the mythological connection. They only care about the money."

Evie chuckled and slipped the card into her purse. "I'll give you a call, Mr. Laufeyson, if I'm interested."

With a nod of his head, he stood from his seat and straightened his jacket. He was impeccably dressed and it gave him the appearance of authority he clearly preferred. His educated-sounding foreign accent helped as well.

"It's been a pleasure, Dr. Coulson," he replied.

She tried to hide her surprise, but he was the first person to call her by the appropriate title since she had arrived. It spoke of the fact that he had done some research on her. It was somewhat unsettling, but she supposed if she were in his position, she too would want to find as much information as possible regarding someone in which she wished to do business.

Evie shook his outstretched hand. He took his newspaper and placed it under his arm. With another small smile he exited the restaurant, glancing back at her briefly before turning right down the street. She watched him crawl into an expensive sports car and zoom down the road, once again leaving the placid little town square outside quiet and unremarkable.

Despite her discomfort, she couldn't help but feel intrigued by the mysterious man. He was just the type of man she would have easily fallen into bed with before now, but the thought brought a bitter taste to her mouth. Laufeyson was like a younger version of Dr. Smith. That was the absolute _last_ memory she needed at the moment. It was the worst possible mistake to make.

With a sigh, Evie stood from her seat and dropped cash on the table for her tea, heading out of the restaurant. She needed to drive out to the ranch and take care of business.

* * *

Steve yawned into his hand and reached for the Styrofoam cup sitting in the armrest cup holder beside him. He had not gotten enough sleep last night and was regretting it now. The potent coffee he'd acquired from the bakery wasn't making a dent in his exhaustion after the past two days. Actually, he was fairly certain the only cure for this sort of fatigue would be a good, long restorative sleep. The problem would be finding the time to do it now that he was running the ranch solo.

He sipped the coffee and placed it back in the holder, once again grabbing the steering wheel in front of him. The desert seemed quiet and clear this morning with the chill from the previous night. He always loved this time of year, when it was those few blissful months where it wasn't too hot or too cold, though he did miss the tree change he'd loved growing up on the East coast. Prescott had its share of trees, but none of them ever had leaves turn as brilliantly orange, red and gold as New York's trees turned this time of year.

As he scanned the horizon in front of him, he noticed puffs of smoke rising and curling in the cold air. His truck climbed over the small hill in the road. Relief flooded him when he knew it wasn't the ranch, but rather a stranded car on the side of the desolate road. A body popped out of the driver's side door; it took him a second longer to recognize who it was. She waved frantically to get his attention.

She was dressed in pair of dark jeans, a Beatles shirt that fell off her shoulder and a pair of those ridiculous shearling boots that were so popular with teenagers these days. There was absolutely no reason to be wearing such footwear in an arid desert climate like this one. For being thirty or so, she dressed like she was seventeen. It annoyed him in the worst way.

He slowed down and glanced in the rearview mirrors before moving over into the shoulder. As he stopped and parked the truck, he noticed the look of relief in her eyes. She came to his door before he could get out.

"I don't think I've ever been happier to see someone!" she exclaimed in her muddled English accent. He hadn't noticed it much the day before, since they had said so few words to each other, but it was there and he could hear the telltale evidence that she hadn't spent her whole life in England.

He gave her a small smile. Though clearly frazzled, he did also feel like she was more relaxed than she had been yesterday at the memorial service. "You're lucky I was coming by. I don't usually come this way, but I wanted to check a fence we fixed this week. Most people don't come this way."

"They don't?" she asked. "But Google Maps said to come down this way… but then I lost my signal."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Google Maps isn't gospel, especially out in the country. If Google Maps told you to jump from a bridge, would you?"

She fixed him with an annoyed glare. "Of course I wouldn't!"

"Do you even know how to read a real map?"

"I'm not an idiot," she said.

"Doesn't mean you know how to read a map," he replied, opening the truck door and stepping down onto the paved road.

She huffed. "Are you going to argue with me or help me?"

He raised a challenging brow at her, trying not to let his lips quirk in a smile. "What did you do to the car?"

"_I_ didn't do anything," she replied. "It just started smoking."

He walked around the vehicle. It was a new model Acura from a rental company which meant it shouldn't have had any mechanical troubles. After doing a quick inspection of the controls and meters on the inside of the car, he moved to the open hood. He leaned over, inspecting the damage inside the car. It was nothing he could see without taking things apart, and he knew better than try to fix a rental.

"So?" she asked. Her arms were crossed over herself and she tapped her foot angrily on the ground with those stupid boots.

"Well, it's not overheated. It's probably the engine," he said. "You have to call the rental agency and a tow truck."

"I don't have service," she said, waving her cell phone in front of him.

"I know, you told me," he said. "You'll have to ride with me. There's a landline or two at the ranch that you can use."

She huffed.

"Did you bring your stuff with you?"

"Yes," she replied petulantly, popping the trunk.

He reached into the car and withdrew her two suitcases, carrying them to his truck. She watched him carefully as he arranged them in the bed of the truck and then turned and grabbed her purse from the backseat. She closed and locked the doors as she walked around the vehicle. The hood of the car dropped back into place with an angry _thunk_ and she glanced up at him.

He opened the passenger door and extracted the pink boxes that had been sitting on the seat.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Doughnuts," he replied. "You'll have to hold them."

"Why do you need so many?" she asked.

He shook his head. "They're for the crew," he replied. "You father, when he was well, would always go to church Sunday morning, stop at the bakery on his way back and pick up doughnuts for us. I've been keeping up with the tradition since he got too sick to do it."

"How nostalgic of you," she said. The sarcasm in her voice was not missed. She climbed into the truck and buckled herself into the seat.

Steve watched her for a moment. Why did the gesture bother her?

"Here," he said, handing her the boxes. When she took them and set them in her lap, he shut the door and walked around to get into the driver's seat.

"They're still warm," she replied and shifted her legs beneath the boxes.

He nodded. "They were just putting them out when I got there."

Without another word, he started the truck and pulled back out onto the road. A quiet, somewhat tense silence filled the cab of the vehicle as they passed a few miles. He didn't know what to say. How to talk to her. What should he do? His good manners dictated that he say _something_ to her to engage her in conversation, but the fact of the matter was he didn't know her and he didn't particularly like her. Still, though, Phil had asked him to look out for her and he intended to do it, even if she seemed like a tough pill to swallow.

A few miles later, he pulled down the back path leading to the main house. She sighed when the large ranch house came into view. "He really built up since the last time I came out."

"When was the last time you were here?" he asked.

"Twelve years ago. Right before I started at university," she replied.

"Phil bought an additional ten thousand acres about seven years ago. Added about 700 more head of cattle, started breeding horses commercially and built lodging for the ranch hands." He motioned with his right hand to the structures set between the first barn and the house.

Steve glanced at his passenger and was surprised to see her wide eyes. It made him feel somewhat boastful and proud of his boss and surrogate father figure.

"I didn't know the ranch was so huge," she said. "What kind of money does it make?"

"Enough," Steve replied. Did the money matter that much? It didn't to him, of course, because he would have done this work even if he didn't get paid. On the other hand, it was probably pretty damn important to her, especially now that she was technically the owner.

"That doesn't answer my question," she replied.

"It's enough to maintain all the animals, equipment and land, plus pay for six full-time, live in hands and me," he answered. "We hire seasonal labor, too."

"Oh," she said simply. He watched her closely as he shut off the truck. She really was attractive when she wasn't snippy. With a sigh he shook his head and turned to get out of the truck. He refused to let his mind travel down that road. It was the absolute last thing he needed or wanted at the moment.

"Come on," he said. "I'll show you your room and then you can call a tow truck."

She nodded and followed him into the main house, still carrying with her the boxes of doughnuts.


	4. Chapter 3

_Again, my thanks to everyone for their support. I'm loving writing this and hope you continue to love to read it._

_Please excuse any mistakes. I am not using a beta for this._

**Chapter 3**

Evie stepped into the room Steve had shown her to and looked around the sedate, sparse furnishings. Her father had never been one to be overly ostentatious, preferring economy and rigid order to chaos and it showed in everything. The house was comfortable enough, but everything was neatly ordered to an almost obsessive-compulsive fanaticism. It was one of the many reasons why her parents had not worked together, and should have been something they considered before ever having a child.

Her father, the straight-laced, conservative man who resisted any anarchy fell in love with the hippie wild child who refused to be pegged into a "woman's role." They'd met in college, she a rising classical musician who'd had everything handed to her in life, and he a boy working two jobs to put himself through school.

How they ever thought that union would work, Evie didn't know, but from the stories her mother had told her, it hadn't all been fighting. She had said the relationship had been exciting and amazing in the beginning with the passion created by two radically different people. It turned sour when, a few months before his graduation, he decided to move them to a hole in the wall town in Arizona and buy a cattle ranch. Shortly after, Evie turned three and her mother took her back to Portland. At five years old, they'd moved to London when her mother received a contract with the London Symphony Orchestra. Her parents' marriage had ended and her father didn't come to visit. Nor did he invite her out to the farm.

Evie knew she could be too much like her mother. Too free spirited. Too absent minded. The woman had raised her, after all. Maybe if her father had been more concerned about her instead of the success of the ranch, he might have had more of an effect on how she turned out. She might have had more of his traits and thus their relationship would have been better.

How could he have been so—apparently—giving to the people around him and his community and all she'd been given were cards with money? Why did they love him? Or on those few visits she _had_ made out here as a child, why had he just expected a relationship to be there without any effort on his part?

Her memories were rudely interrupted by someone clearing their throat. She whipped around, realizing that she had zoned out and that Steve was still in the doorway, taking most of the open space up with his body. "Huh?"

"Did you hear anything I told you?" he asked. He looked pained.

"Uh, no," she replied sheepishly.

He sighed. "There's a phone there."

She looked to the bedside table. Sure enough, a cordless phone sat in a cradle. "Thanks."

"I'll be out working if you need anything," he replied.

Evie nodded quietly.

He turned to leave but paused and turned back to look at her with soft eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Hmm? No, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. Never mind," he replied and left the room.

She listened to the sound of his boots on the hardwood stairs as he made the descent down to the ground floor. The front door opened and shut, leaving her alone in a quiet house. The faint chorus of mooing in the distance floated into the house, followed by the sound of beating hooves. Ah, the soundtrack of a cowboy life.

Evie sat on the edge of the bed with a pastel patchwork quilt, reaching for the phone. The helpful clerk at Enterprise advised her that a tow truck would be dispatched, but they may not get someone out until the following day because it wasn't in Phoenix. They would call her before so she could meet the guy out there with the keys. Her father had to have a car around here somewhere that she could use; she didn't want to bother Steve again. She'd already caused enough of a headache out on the side of the highway. If there was one thing she hated more than anything else, it was not being self-reliant. When she had failed to figure out what was wrong with her car in an attempt to fix it, she'd grown angry and she'd been terrible to him.

She was surprised he hadn't just left her there to fend for herself. Presented a similar situation, she would have left herself out there. Instead, he had endured the barbed comments, checked the car, moved her luggage and opened and held doors for her like a gentleman. It was strange to have someone do that; men didn't seem to do that stuff anymore. Well, men other than Steve. A smile spread involuntarily across her lips. It was strangely nice to have been treated like that, but she quashed the thoughts in her head. Why did it even matter?

Evie sighed heavily and looked around the room again. Her suitcases sat by the door waiting to be unpacked, but the thought did not appeal much to her. However, neither did sorting through her father's belongings. Instead she lay back on the bed and curled up, hugging her knees to her chest and wishing the world away. As she focused on her breathing, her eyelids grew heavy and shut under the weight. Exhaustion, jet lag and the stress of the past few days all hit her at the same time and fell asleep.

* * *

Steve came out of the horse barn that evening after putting his horse in his stall for the night. He looked toward the main house. It was completely dark except for the flood light which had turned on as another ranch hand made their way to the first set of apartments. He thought it odd that no lights were on in the house; he had seen neither hide nor hair of Phil's daughter since he had shown her the room this morning.

He would have lied if he said he wasn't worried about her. Despite her testy attitude when he found her on the side of the road, things seemed to have changed as soon as they made it to the ranch. She'd grown quiet and pensive. While she looked around the room, he'd watched a full spectrum of emotions cross her face. Happiness, sadness, regret, acceptance. All of it tugged at his heart. Though she didn't show it to others, she most certainly was suffering from this. It made her seem more human to him than the cold, emotionless creature he'd met at the funeral.

"Steve," said a voice behind him.

He turned in the low dusk light to find one of the other workers standing beside him with a rope coiled over his shoulder. "Yeah, Carlos?"

"Phil's daughter…" Carlos began, "what do we do? Is she our boss now?"

Steve shook his head. "She owns the ranch now, but she doesn't know anything about ranching. I'm your boss."

Carlos nodded. "Do ya think she'll try to take over?"

"Taking over isn't what I'm worried about," Steve remarked.

Carlos didn't reply, but bid him goodnight and headed in the direction of the apartments. Steve watched him disappear before glancing back at the house. There was absolutely no reason for Phil's daughter to keep the ranch. It was an inheritance and she didn't know a thing about running a ranch, much less the special circumstances involving this one. While he would have been more than happy to run it for her, she was not the type of person to want to keep this operation going. She didn't understand it. She was a city girl who wore those ridiculous boots because they were fashionable, not because they were protecting her feet from the harsh elements.

His only option would be to find some way to make her understand how important this ranch was to him and to everyone else in the town. At this point, though, he wasn't sure he would be able to find a crack in the metaphorical wall she'd built around her.

And there still wasn't any movement in the house, despite the fact that it had grown dark. With a grumble, his conscience got the better of him and made him move toward the house. He stood at the front door and knocked. There was no reply or movement, so he knocked and called for her again. Still nothing.

Steve shook his head and reached for the door knob, letting himself inside the house. He went upstairs and found the door to her bedroom open. She lay sprawled out on the bed wearing the same clothes from earlier. Her long, black hair had fanned out across a pillow behind her head and partially covered her face. She snored softly.

A smile crossed his lips at the sight before him. She looked so innocent laying there. Definitely younger and not as careworn as she had appeared yesterday. Steve realized he was staring and turned to leave, but she shifted. The snoring ceased and she made a soft moaning sound. As her eyes flickered open, she stretched her body and yawned.

"Steve?" she asked. Her voice was heavy with sleep, but his name said in such a slow, raspy way with the faint accent made a shiver of pleasure skitter up his spine. He instantly shook his head, trying to push away his thoughts. It had been a very long time since he'd even thought about a woman like this, much less _wanted_ something with a woman. Why did it have to be for the woman he had deemed persona non grata?

"Hi," he said. _Genius line, Rogers,_ he thought. He wanted to smack himself. What did you say to a woman who found you standing over her bed in a darkened bedroom… a bedroom that you shouldn't be in to begin with?

"What time is it?" she asked, rubbing her face. She was not nearly as surprised as he thought she should be to find him there.

"Almost seven," he replied. "I hadn't seen you at all today, and thought I'd check on you."

She sat up in bed and looked around the room. "Geez, I didn't mean to sleep that long, but goodness did I need it."

He nodded. "That's good," he replied. "We're closed down for the evening. Carlos will be doing the night watch tonight."

She nodded.

"I'll just be headed out to my apartment," he replied. "I'm number one on the first building if you need me."

"Oh, wait," she said, stopping him before he could leave. "I need a car if the tow truck comes tonight. Did my father leave one?"

"Yes," he replied. "I can get the keys for you and show you where it is… but the tow truck won't be around tonight."

"They said they operate until nine," she replied.

Steve gave her a skeptical look. "I'm not letting you meet anyone out on the side of a deserted highway in the middle of the night. We may be in the middle of nowhere, but you never know…"

"You've heard too many urban legends," she remarked. "I'll be fine."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Over my dead body. Your father would kill me if I let you do something like that. As a matter of fact, he might resurrect just for the opportunity."

"I don't think he'd really care." She threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

"Trust me, he would," Steve replied.

She didn't comment or protest any more. Instead, she walked along the wall, flipping on the overhead light. He squinted.

"You're a mess," she replied.

He looked down at himself. He was covered in dirt and mud after a long day in the fields, feeding, roping, and performing health checks on their animals. It didn't surprise him. The dirt had become second nature to him so much so that at times being clean felt odd. "Hazard of the job."

Her lips curled in distaste.

Steve sighed. "I'm going to get cleaned up and then I'm going into town for a drink. Would you care to come with me?"

He also had a meeting regarding the fall festival, but she didn't need to know that. Her presence would be good to have tonight, whether the others wanted her there or not. She was the proxy for her father, after all.

"Oh, well, I guess," she replied. "But I need food."

"They have pub food," he said.

She nodded. "Sure."

Steve walked toward the door and didn't turn around as he said, "Be outside in a half hour."

"Yeah," he heard her reply as he made it downstairs and out the front door. He needed to get his thoughts in order as soon as possible, and unfortunately they were now about many more issues than the fall festival. Hopefully a nice, long shower would do the trick of clearing his mind, but he wasn't about to bet on it. He knew he wasn't going to stop thinking about her or the puzzle she posed. He wanted to know what made her tick. Why she was the way she was. Why she thought so poorly of Phil.

Steve entered his tiny studio apartment and shut the door behind him, peeling his shirt off his body and tossing it in a pile on the floor. Most of all, he wanted to figure out why he wanted to toss her down on the bed and have his merry way with her, despite her poor attitude. The thought sent another pleasurable skitter up and down his spine, circling around his groin.

"Damn it, man, stop thinking about her," he said to himself and stepped into the bathroom. He began to turn the shower on hot, but decided to leave it on cold. Maybe the chill would be better to calm him down. As he finished undressing and stepped into the stinging water spray, he knew it was pointless to ignore it. She would still be there as a constant reminder of his traitorous thoughts. With a grumble, he reached for the soap and turned the knob to freezing.


	5. Chapter 4

_Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! _

_Again, all mistakes are my own as I do not currently have a beta.  
_

**Chapter 4**

A half hour later, Evie sat in Steve's large Ford truck as they drove down the dark highway. They took the back route to verify that the rental car was still there; it was just as they'd left it. After they passed the vehicle, however, they fell into a dreadfully uncomfortable silence. She felt like she had nothing to say to him, but there were so many things they _could_ say to each other. So many questions she had. Still, though, there was something preventing her from doing so.

He unnerved her in the worst way. When she met him yesterday, she hadn't realized the very real hormones raging through her body. She'd brushed them off in passing, thinking nothing more of them. At the time, her brain had been in overload after the memorial service. However, after the brief time they'd spent together today, she couldn't help but take a longer look at him with a little more opportunity for introspection on her body's natural, chemical inclination to find men like him attractive. This was the type of Grade A male specimen that would be considered perfect to carry on humanity's evolving genetic code. He was large, he was strong, and he was beautiful. Biologically, there was nothing else that mattered.

The thoroughly masculine mix of soap and aftershave on his skin didn't hurt, either.

He was dangerous. But he was also strange. She didn't know if he was just the strong and silent type or if there was something else she didn't understand, but he came off as uncomfortable in his own skin. How could he be uncomfortable? The man was perfection. In any other species, females would be lined up around the block waiting for their crack at him, and he'd probably oblige them all. The thought made a bitter taste rise in her mouth.

Evie sighed and clenched her jaw as she looked out the window into the pitch black. The moon wasn't out and the stars weren't shining bright enough to cast any decent light on the desert landscape.

"Are you okay?" he asked carefully.

"Yes!" she said exasperatedly. "Quit asking me if I'm okay. I'm fine. I'm great."

His own jaw clenched. "Sorry, it's just a habit. I promised Phil I'd look out for you."

"I can take care of myself," Evie said. "I've done it for most of my life. I plan to continue doing it without someone else's help."

"Your mother never once came to your rescue?" he asked.

Evie shot him a glare. "I was the one always going to my mother's rescue. It wasn't the other way around."

He was silent as he processed the meaning of her words.

"My mom has the maturity of a toddler," she elaborated. "She is a gifted musician, but that's all she is. She lives and breathes music to the complete exclusion to everything else in her life most of the time. For instance… I've called her four times and left four messages on her phone since my father died. I haven't heard anything from her. I'm handling this all by myself."

"Ah," he replied.

"So don't lecture me on needing someone to look out for me," she replied. "This is beside the fact that Phil asking you to do it is just so rich. He could have cared less about me, too."

Steve bristled. "I think you're wrong about that."

"How?"

"Do you not know how much your father loved you? How much he talked about you?" Steve said. "He always had these clippings from newspapers about awards and such that you received. He read every single one of your published papers."

"It's news to me." Evie frowned. How was that even possible? She hadn't talked to her father. How did he know of her accomplishments? How could he have found out? The only answer was her mother… but her mother always seemed to be so caught up in her own drama to ever have time to do any of that.

"Well, he did," Steve said.

Evie harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest. A headache had begun to form over her eyes. She didn't want to think about this right now. Luckily, the twinkling town lights floated in the distance as they crested a hill. Ten tense minutes later, he was pulling into a parking spot in the garage she had used while at the hotel.

She unbuckled the seatbelt and reached down for her purse. As she rose, he was at her door and opening it for her. Evie made sure to cast him a withering glare, but stepped down onto the running board and then to the ground from the giant truck. It was only then that she realized her folly. He was standing unbearably close. Close enough that the scent of the soap and aftershave tickled her nose again. If it was possible to make a woman spontaneously climax from sheer alpha male demeanor and masculinity, this man could do it.

And yet, he was completely unaware of his overwhelming power.

He cleared his throat and stepped out of the way for her. Evie pulled the coat on her shoulders tighter as he shut the door and hit the button on the key fob to lock it. He didn't say anything as he started out of the garage. She followed beside him and found herself outside of the hotel she'd stayed at for the past few days.

"It's an older bar," he said. "The Bird Cage."

"Oh," she replied as they continued a few doors down the street.

The exterior didn't look like much, but the inside was a typical sports bar, perhaps a little eclectic as many of the little shops were in Prescott. There were some mummified birds decorating the walls instead of focusing on the actual connotation of the "bird cage" in Old West whorehouses of which this street in Prescott was famous. The literal interpretation made her chuckle.

Evie glanced around at the people in the bar. She recognized a fair few of them from the memorial service the previous day. The woman with the cropped red hair gave her a pinched look and turned back to putting place settings at a large round table in the back of the bar.

"We're going to need another place setting, Nat," Steve called.

The woman, whom she now remembered as having introduced herself as Natasha, looked at them again and counted the settings she had brought with her to the table. "No we don't. I miscounted and left one in here for Phil."

Evie heard the waver of emotion in her voice and looked up at Steve. The man in question looked pained again and placed one of his large hands on the small of her back. "Come on," he said, directing her toward the table.

She was distinctly aware of the fact that many sets of eyes watched them as they walked, though she knew they were focused on her and not on her companion. They were appraising her again, and she could just sense how critical they were. She felt like a complete outsider that wasn't entirely welcome into this local watering hole.

"What's going on? Why are we eating in a group?" Evie asked him.

Steve looked at her. "We have a meeting about the fall harvest festival."

"The what?" she asked. This was the first time she'd heard of anything like that, and she didn't appreciate being blindsided by it. This was beside the fact that she didn't know why they were including her. She had nothing to do with this. In a week or so she'd be back in England.

"You'll see," he said. "Let's get settled and we'll go over it with everyone."

Evie paused beside the table and noticed a few others making their way back. "Hello," she said softly.

"Dr. Coulson," said the man with the dark goatee. He words were slightly slurred, but not terribly so. "Tony Stark."

"I'm Evie, please," she replied. "You wouldn't happen to be the owner of Stark Industries, would you?"

He grinned. "The same. You've heard of me, then."

She looked at him again and around the old, dingy bar trying to reconcile the fact that he was so out of place. The last location she would have expected to find a wealthy man like him would be in Prescott. He should have been in some fancy country club or a restaurant in New York.

"We use some of your machines and software out in the field," she replied.

"What field is that?" he asked.

"Archaeology," she said.

He looked at her for a moment. "I thought that was all bones and tiny picks."

Evie laughed. "Archaeology has changed as quickly as technology has, Mr. Stark. Though I won't discount the fact that picks do help on occasion."

He chuckled and shook his head, sliding into a seat and placing his drink in front of him. Steve was speaking with a man she _did_ recognize from the memorial service—he had dark curly hair, kind eyes and a soft smile. Steve glanced briefly in her direction and she quickly turned away, but not before noticing how his easy, conversational body language became stiff and formal.

"Bruce, I don't know if you've met Elizabeth," Steve said.

"Evie," she corrected.

The man turned and gave her a small, tight smile. "Briefly."

"Bruce is the head of the science department at Prescott High School," Steve also added.

Now she remembered him. Dr. Banner. She'd thought he was overqualified to be teaching high school.

Evie nodded her head. Steve excused himself from his conversation and stepped beside her. He took his duty as her host seriously. Too seriously. It was almost stifling, but he finished pointing out the important people nonetheless. "Then you met Natasha, she's Clint's partner. They own the bar."

She looked across the bar where a more compact man was moving around behind it, filling drink orders. Natasha moved in concert with him like some well rehearsed dance as she did other tasks.

"They also coach a few sports programs at the high school," Steve added.

It seemed strange that people so radically different would be so close with each other, bar friendships or not.

"Hey, you made it!"

Evie startled out of her thoughts and followed Steve's gaze toward the front door. Walking toward them was a giant. Well, he seemed like a giant compared to her slight height. He was even more beautiful than Steve; the man was an Adonis with long golden hair tied at the back. His skin was sun kissed and glowing. Literally. Thick muscles corded around his forearms and disappeared into the rolled up sleeves of his button down. He was clearly Scandinavian in heritage and looked like he could snap a man's neck with only one hand.

"My god, he's huge," she muttered, perhaps too loudly as Steve looked at her with a pained expression.

"I think he gets that a lot," Steve remarked and left her side to welcome the man. The instant the man spoke, Evie recognized the voice as the one she'd spoken to on the phone at the hospital.

The man scratched his bristly cheek with a large hand and glanced in her direction as Steve spoke lowly to him. Steve turned and waved her over. "Elizabeth, this is—"

"My name is Evie, not Elizabeth," she said exasperatedly.

"Donald Blake—," Steve continued.

"The doctor?" she interrupted.

Steve's eyes narrowed at her and the doctor looked between them curiously for a minute. "I see how you two are getting on."

Evie shook her head and huffed.

"Yes, I'm Donald Blake, Phil's doctor," he said and offered his hand.

Evie shook it. "Why are you a doctor? You should be playing American football or something."

"I like the challenge of trying to help people," he replied. "It's better than trying to break them."

"Fair enough," Evie nodded.

Steve cleared his throat to get their attention. Evie turned to look at him as Donald walked over to greet everyone else. It occurred to her again that this was an incredibly motley crew. "So... what the heck are we doing here?"

Steve sighed. "Fall festival committee meeting. Your father was good friends with Mayor Fury—Fury was only city manager when this started—and the City was searching for a way to raise money to donate to the hospital for improvements. When the economy tanked, Prescott was hit hard so the City didn't have a lot of surplus budget. So they had a brain child to hold a fall festival to raise money. Your father donated the time and space at the ranch for the effort. They wanted a group of upstanding locals to be the face of the festival rather than government bureaucrats. So... you get us as the planning committee. They started with a few different people. Everyone but Stark has been doing it for eight years now. Stark started four years ago when he wandered into a meeting and wouldn't leave despite us asking him to. He's one of our main sponsors now."

"I see," she replied, mulling over what she had been told. "Stark is worth a lot of money. Why doesn't he just donate it himself instead of going to all this trouble?"

"He is," Steve replied. "But he sees this as an investment opportunity where he can grow more money. It's a business strategy thing… not really my strong suit. Apparently also looks good on paper."

"And you're still raising money for the hospital?"

"Oh, no," he said. "We choose a new charity every year... it's become tradition now, so whether we were raising money for something or not, I think we'd still do it."

"Ah," she replied. It was beginning to make sense now. At least it explained why everyone in the town seemed to know and care for her father. If he was the instigator of something the town liked and benefitted from, there was no doubt everyone would think favorably of him. Such revelations, however, did not ease her personal feelings of abandonment. How could he have spent so much time on something like this and not worried about her instead?

"I want to keep it going for your dad because it was so important to him," Steve said.

"And why do I have to be here?" she asked.

"You're his daughter. You own the ranch."

Evie met his eyes. "I don't intend to stay."

"The festival is in two weeks," he replied. "The weekend before Halloween."

Evie opened her mouth to respond that she did not plan to remain here that long, but stopped when she noticed another person blowing in the door. A tall, thin woman with dark hair and pretty blue eyes stood in the doorway. Her figure was to die for beneath her fitted navy skirt and frothy white blouse. She carried with her a briefcase and wore a Bluetooth in her ear. She was all business as she breezed through the maze of tables to the back of the bar.

"Maria!" Natasha embraced her quickly and stepped back to go on with her chores.

Maria turned and looked at the group of people still milling about around the table. "Come on, folks. We haven't got all day. I'm on a tight schedule."

"Nice to see you, too, Maria," Steve intoned as she blew past.

Maria paused and looked at him, her light eyes dancing across his face, but continuing to Evie. "Oh, hello... you must be the daughter."

"I guess so," Evie said. "Evie Coulson."

Maria gave her hand a perfunctory shake. "Maria Hill, Mayor Fury's assistant."

"Pleasure," Evie said.

The woman turned back to the table and set her bag on top of it. She withdrew a stack of papers and began passing them out around the table. Evie in turn looked at Steve, whom Maria had categorically ignored. Steve just looked bewildered.

"I see you've got a thing for her," Evie remarked.

He fidgeted uncomfortably. His reaction was confirmation enough for her, but there was an inexplicable feeling of grief knowing now that her own unwarranted attraction to the man was one-sided.

"Uh, not so much with the present tense," he said. "_Had_, maybe, but that's it. Let's stop talking about it and sit down."

Evie nodded her head and followed him to the table, where he pulled the chair out for her and held it until she sat down and made herself comfortable. It seemed strange in such a casual setting as this one to have him behave so formally, but she was quickly beginning to understand that if Steve was anything, he was old-fashioned and polite.

He was also acting like her nanny. She watched as he slid into the chair beside her, perhaps for too long, as she glanced back at the group of people, catching Dr. Blake's curious eyes from across the table. Evie shook her head and looked down at the table in front of her as Natasha quickly took drink orders.

"What can I get you, Ms. Coulson?" Natasha asked in her pleasantly husky Russian accent.

"It's Evie," she said. "I'll have a vodka gimlet and a glass of water… no ice."

Natasha paused in her writing, and looked up at her, eyes brimming with tears. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, why?" Evie asked.

She quickly cleared her throat and sucked back the tears, leaving to fill the drink orders.

Evie glanced around the table. The others were talking amongst themselves, but Steve looked at her like she had five heads. "What?"

"Nothing," Steve replied.

"It's something."

Steve shifted in his seat and opened his mouth to answer her, but Maria called the meeting to order. Maria shoved an agenda beneath her nose, but Evie spaced out as she listened to all of them talk about the various tasks they had each completed since the last meeting they'd had. Drinks were delivered and Natasha sat down while Clint maintained the bar, though he would occasionally stop over to make sure everything was okay.

As Evie drank, she felt more and more lightheaded. Clint was a heavy-handed pourer, and after the second drink, she knew she had to get something in her stomach or she was going to regret it later.

Bruce was rattling on about the volunteers he'd accumulated through signups at the high school when a new group of people entered the bar. Four men in business suits sat at a table together and left a seat open for the fifth who strolled in a few seconds after, looking as arrogant and sexily confident as he had been that morning interrupting her tea. Loki grinned and muttered something to his friends before walking back to them.

"What are you doing here, Loki?" asked Dr. Blake. He had an unpleasant edge to his voice.

"Just out with some business partners," Loki said. He stopped beside Evie's chair and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Lovely to see you again, Evie."

Evie smiled. She could feel the animosity rippling in the air. Clearly, no one here liked the man.

"Well go away," Blake said. "You're not needed."

"Is that any way to talk to your brother?" Loki asked.

"Wait, what?" Evie asked. "Brother?"

"Stepbrother," Blake confirmed.

Loki sighed. "I only came over to say hello to Evie. We met this morning. Have you given my business proposal any thought?"

"Uh, no," Evie replied. "I got to the ranch and slept the whole day. You know, jet lag and all that."

"You know where to reach me," he said. "I'll leave you to it then."

She watched him saunter back to his friends and then turned to look at the rest of the people at the table. Not that their previous opinion of her had been incredibly high, but they now regarded her with frosty irritation.

"You're going to sell the ranch?" Maria asked.

"I don't know," Evie said. "No decisions have been made yet. Can we please get back to the topic at hand?"

They all shook their heads in annoyance, but went back to their discussion. She suddenly felt like even more of an outsider; she wasn't needed and knew she could leave. They wouldn't miss her. Buoyed by alcohol that had gone straight to her head, she stood up and excused herself to go get some air. Once outside, she crossed the narrow street for Courthouse Square and sat on the ledge of a concrete flower planter. The cold air felt good filling her lungs and stinging her warm face.

It was only then that the first tears were shed since this whole ordeal began.


	6. Chapter 5

_Again, thank you all for the support!_

**C****hapter 5**

Steve sighed heavily and looked around at his friends as they discussed the festival. Not one of them seemed to be concerned that Evie had disappeared a good half hour ago and had yet to return.

He, on the other hand, was very concerned. About many things. First, there was Laufeyson, who had clearly already spoken to her about buying the ranch. He'd been out at the ranch the day after Phil's death to take a look around. Steve had known it would only be a matter of time until he made the play for the land, as he'd been trying for the past five years to convince Phil to sell it. Loki was astute, sometimes scarily so. He knew that Evie was a sitting duck and only needed the right offer, and hadn't wasted any time in bringing it to her attention. It both enraged Steve and worried him because now that she knew the ranch would be easy to sell with such an interested party, it would make an apathetic daughter's choice even easier. Steve wondered if he even had a chance to convince her to save it.

There was hope, though. He'd seen the flicker of… something… in her eyes as she had exasperatedly told them to forget about what Loki had said. Steve wondered if she really wasn't considering keeping the ranch open, and if she was, how he could unwaveringly convince her it was the best idea. Closing the ranch would affect many more people than she probably knew, not least of all the people sitting around this table.

However, he didn't appreciate the way those people had behaved toward her. Their unkind dismissal after the interruption from Loki had been harsh. Sure, they hadn't thought much of her to begin with because she wasn't particularly easy to like, but at least she'd been interested and engaging tonight. Perhaps she was a little flustered and standoffish, but nothing that couldn't be ascribed to being new to the group. It was wrong of them to treat her like this. Perhaps it was wrong of him to bring her tonight; he knew she wouldn't want the headache of this while she sorted through everything else. Maybe having her meet everyone at once was too much.

When the meeting finally came to a close and dinner orders were being taken, he looked around the bar again. Loki and his friends were still huddled together in a corner. Evie was still missing in action. He sighed and pushed back his chair with purpose. Blake looked up at him with curious eyes.

"I'm going to find her," Steve said by way of explanation and Blake merely nodded his head. He stepped outside and looked up and down the Row. It wasn't extremely busy on Sunday nights, but there was still a good crowd bar and club hopping along the street. The short stroll down the street didn't produce any results, though.

On his way back, he heard someone call his name. He turned in his spot and located the origin of voice. Ezra sat perched on the edge of his stool in front of the Rainbow Club. The large man motioned him over, but stopped to check the IDs of two people who stopped in front of him. He motioned for them to go ahead inside as Steve stopped in front of him.

"Who you looking for?" Ezra asked.

"Phil's daughter. Have you seen her?"

Ezra nodded his head. There wasn't much that got past the man; it was his job to watch the area around his club.

"She's sitting in the square," he replied. "I don't know where exactly, but that's where she went. What happened?"

Steve pursed his lips. "Laufeyson happened."

Ezra sighed. "Ah."

Steve knew he wouldn't get any more out of him, thanked him, and crossed the street to the old courthouse. He found her sitting in the dark at the heart of the tree-lined park. It was far enough removed from the hustle and bustle of Whiskey Row to hear her sniffles in the still night air. Steve cringed, debating on interrupting her. He always felt so uncomfortable around crying women, and this one wouldn't be any different. Actually, it would be even more awkward. But he wasn't just going to leave her out here on her own. She may have lived a lot of her life taking care of herself, but he could change that if she'd let him. There was no harm in trying, was there?

Her whole body tensed and relaxed as he stopped in front of her. Watery eyes climbed his body from the ground where they'd been cast, until finally meeting his. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands and turned quickly away from him.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"May I sit?"

Evie looked at the concrete ledge beside her and shrugged her shoulders. "If you want to."

He sat and blew out a long breath. Opting for silence and just sitting with her seemed to pay off as she slowly stopped crying and sniffled.

"I'm sorry," she said. "When I drink vodka I get weepy. I should have known better."

"It's better than liquor that makes you want to fight," he said.

"Then keep me away from the tequila."

"What makes you happy?"

She shrugged. "Scotch, usually."

"Then we'll get you Scotch next time," he replied.

Evie smiled. "Will there even _be _a next time with them?"

"They didn't mean it," he said.

Evie chuckled and glanced at him. "Yes, they did."

"So they did."

She nodded. "I'm not upset because of their reaction. My stress level just hit the ceiling with it. Before I received the call from Dr. Blake, I was stressing over a huge mess in my personal life. And then I've had all this to deal with. Now I've been handed the keys to the kingdom here, and it's just an awful lot to process. So I'm sorry if I've been rude or distant."

"It's understandable," he said. It didn't excuse her previous attitude, but he could only imagine what she was going through.

Evie sighed heavily and looked over at him. Her eyes, dark from the starless night, watched his face for a long time. He merely stared back. The faint orange street light cast shadows on her face, accentuating the sharp line of her nose and slight curve of her jaw. She shifted slightly and a piece of black hair fell into her pretty face. With a dramatic sigh, she brushed it away and shook her head.

"You don't say much, do you?" she said.

"I prefer action to talking," he replied.

"Well, then, Rogers," she said and stood up, looking at him. "If you were in my position, what would you do? Would you sell or would you keep the ranch?"

Steve held her gaze. "You shouldn't listen to me, Elizabeth. I have a vested interest in you keeping the ranch going."

"Then I pose this question to you: if I sell it, will you hate me?" she asked.

"It's your choice," he replied. "I would certainly be discouraged if you did, and I know that Phil would be unhappy because he put so much into it so you could have the life he wanted you to have. Loki will shortchange you. He wants the land so he can put up another planned golf community and resort. He's been sniffing around for years trying to bully your father into selling."

"So you don't want me to sell," she said.

He pressed his lips together. "I didn't say that. I said watch out for Laufeyson."

"But if I sold it to someone else?" she asked.

"Look, it's a free country," he said. "The one thing I believe in above all else is your right to choose for yourself. Sell it if you want."

She sighed and ran a hand haphazardly through her hair. "My god, you are so cryptic."

"I don't think I'm being cryptic," he replied. "I'm being honest and straightforward with you. Why can't you accept what I'm saying at face value."

"Because I know better than to just accept it. There's always an ulterior motive."

"Is there always?" he asked. "Maybe you project that thinking onto what people are saying because you're doubting yourself."

At that, her lips closed and she grumbled angrily. "Is the meeting over with?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Can we go eat something now? I need to equalize the alcohol," she said.

"Sure."

Without saying anything else, she turned and left to go back to the bar. Steve watched her go and sat still for some time. She affected him in a very unwelcome way.

After a few minutes, he followed in her wake. When he stepped inside, he found her talking with Laufeyson and his friends. Anger shot through him—but not at the fact that she was talking to Laufeyson again. It was her right to talk to him. It was the fact that Laufeyson had, in the space for an hour or so, gone from a friendly touch on her shoulder to draping an arm around her shoulders in a very comfortable, casual fashion. Alcohol, no doubt, had played a big part in Loki's freedom, but Steve did not like it. She didn't seem to mind, though, as she laughed at something one of the other men had said. Why did that enrage him? Of all the things that could have angered him, he hadn't planned for that.

Blake stepped up beside him. He sipped from the pint glass in his hand, sighed and looked at Steve. "So, is she selling?"

"She really doesn't know," Steve remarked. "She's considering all her options."

" 'Considering her options'?" his friend remarked. "You're going to let her consider Loki?"

"I may not like him much, but it would be wrong of me to step in the way."

His friend regarded him with a curious expression.

"What? You've been acting very strange tonight," Steve said.

The large man merely smirked at him. "Have I?"

Steve glared at his friend, deciding to change the subject. "When are you going to be out to help us?"

"I should be out Tuesday morning if you and your guys are ready," he replied.

Steve nodded. "I'll have the last trucks scheduled for then. They've been waiting on us, but with all this craziness from Phil's passing, I've had to keep pushing it back."

Blake drank his beer and turned back to look at Loki and Evie who still stood together. Then he glanced back at him. "How are _you_ doing, Steve?"

Steve raised a brow at him and shook his head. "As good as can be expected."

"If she does sell," Blake said, "what do you plan to do? Go back on active duty?"

"I'm not going to plan for anything," Steve replied. "I'm going to take each day as it comes. And right now, I just have to worry about getting the last of the calves off to market and everyone else sorted in the home corrals for the festival."

Frankly, he didn't want to consider what he would have to do if she chose to sell the ranch. As much as he loved his country and the experiences the service had given him right out of high school, watching friends die wasn't high on his list of things he missed and wanted to return to.

"You can't just ignore it."

Steve chuckled. "That's something coming from the devil-may-care Donald Blake."

Blake shrugged. "I grow more curmudgeonly as the years march on. Just like you. You act like you're ninety, not thirty-five."

"Thanks, man, I do my best." Steve shook his head and patted Blake's shoulder as Natasha and another waitress walked by with two serving trays full of food. "I need to eat."

Everyone settled down to their meal and Evie excused herself from Loki's clutches, falling into the seat beside him. She let out a heavy sigh and reached for the salad that had been placed there for her. Steve looked at her dubiously.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he replied.

"Are you going to give me incredulous looks about everything I consume?" she asked.

Steve narrowed his eyes. "You're eating a salad. It's not a meal. It's rabbit food."

"It's healthier than that greasy cheeseburger you're eating," she said, motioning to his plate. He took a large bite of the sandwich and chewed slowly, watching her for any reaction. Her face remained impassive.

He swallowed his bite. "You're a vegetarian, aren't you?"

"And if I am?" she asked.

Steve merely shook his head. It didn't matter to him, but it was fun to tease her. The meal progressed from there, though she remained fairly quiet for the rest of it. The others slowly started saying their farewells and disappearing; he looked over at his companion. She had rested back in her seat and was playing with her cell phone, reading something with a furrowed brow.

"What is it?" he asked.

"My assistant sent me data from some testing we did," she replied. "I'm just reading the results... and it's difficult to do on this tiny screen."

She turned it to him and then shut the screen off.

"Are you ready to head back to the ranch? I want to get some work done before I go back to bed," she said.

"Yeah," he replied, pulling his wallet from his pocket. "I'll meet you out front."

"I need to pay my bill first." She reached for her purse.

"I've got it."

She frowned. "Uh, no, I'll pay for mine."

"Seriously, Elizabeth, I've got it," he replied. "I made you come and didn't tell you the whole truth about what we were doing. Let me do this to make it up to you."

Evie sighed and shook her head. "Fine. But I'm buying next time."

"Is that a promise?" he asked.

She squinted at him, but laughed. "I think so."

Steve nodded his head and walked toward the bar to pay the bill as she slipped out the front door. He waited until after Clint served another patron. "You got hers, too?" he asked.

"Yeah," Steve replied.

Clint handed him the handwritten ticket with the total at the bottom. "You like her," Clint mentioned in a cool, offhand way.

"She's not as terrible as everyone else wants to believe," Steve replied.

Clint gave him a funny look.

"What was that for?"

"Steve, you're really clueless sometimes," Clint replied.

"I don't understand," Steve said.

Clint leaned over the bar to peek out the front door. Steve followed his gaze. Evie stood just outside the front door, her arms wrapped around herself from the chill.

"She's pretty," Clint remarked with a nod of his head.

Steve forced himself to look away from her and back at Clint. He still didn't understand.

"Here." Steve withdrew two twenty-dollar bills from his wallet and handed them over to the man. "Keep the change. If I don't see you before initial set up on Friday night, have a good week."

"Later, man," Clint said, depositing the money into the register.

Steve walked outside and smiled at his companion. "Ready?"

"Yes, let's go," she smiled.

He rested his hand on the small of her back to guide her down the street, but recognized his mistake as soon as his fingers grazed warm flesh. Her shirt did not reach the waist of her jeans; it had ridden up slightly. The skin he had felt was velvety soft and hot, the feeling of which his fingers had forgotten a long time ago. Now that they'd had a taste of it again, they wanted more.

Evie shuddered and it took everything he had to remove his hand.

"Are you cold?" he asked as he tried to ignore the awkward moment. She didn't seem that rocked by the contact.

She glanced quickly at him, eyes flashing in the street lamp. "No, I'm fine."

Evie didn't wait for him to follow and continued into the parking garage. She waited for him by the truck, but he made her stand there until he could open the door for her. The memory of earlier this evening as she had stepped out of the truck ran through his head. He'd not been immune to her then, either, as she gazed up at him through thick black lashes. However, he hadn't realized the affect it had on him until just now.

She climbed into the truck and soon they were off, the cab silent but for the quiet radio playing through the speakers. Within twenty minutes, they were back at the ranch and he parked in his spot. She was already out of the car by the time he reached her side. The expression on her face was defiant, but pleased.

"I can't hold doors for you?" he asked.

"It doesn't win you any brownie points," she replied, walking toward the house. He fell into step beside her. At the front door, she whipped around and looked at him. "Why do you do it? It's almost like to the point of fanaticism."

Steve frowned. Women had never complained of his self-imposed chivalry before. He just considered it a part of every day life that he opened doors and pulled out chairs, among other things. "I just do it. It's how I was raised. You don't like it?"

She didn't reply, as her teeth worried her lower lip. "I don't know if I like it or not. No one has ever done it before around me. Is that weird?"

"_I_ think it's weird," he replied. "Because all men should do it."

Evie chuckled lowly and shook her head. "You're a strange man, Steve Rogers."

"I've been called worse," he replied. "Goodnight, Elizabeth."

Before he knew what had happened, she was standing on her tiptoes and pulling his head down. Her soft lips brushed across his cheek. "Thanks for dinner, Steve," she said, her voice breathy by his ear.

She released him just as quickly as she had pressed herself to his body and turned to open the door. He stood, completely stunned, as she stopped and turned to look at him.

"Oh, almost forgot… Stop calling me Elizabeth." With that, she shut the door in his face.

Steve stared at the wood door unseeing for what felt like ages, trying to make sense of what had just happened. When his mind refused to work, he blinked and shook his head. Maybe a good night's sleep would help.

He could only hope.


	7. Chapter 6

_Thank you all for your support reading, reviewing and "alerting." Sorry about the wait on this-my current masters seminar is kicking my ass. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 6**

Evie woke suddenly from a dream she could not recall, wondering what it was that had awoken her. She sat up in bed, blinking in the bright sunlight that filtered through the blinds and rubbed her eyes. A slight ache in her head pounded behind her right eye as she tried to regain full consciousness and look at the clock on the bedside table. Eleven in the morning. Well, at least it wasn't the entire day this time.

She stretched her arms over head and sighed, looking around the room. Her computer lay on the bed beside her where she had shut it and left it early this morning before passing out. Her work called out to her to jump right back into it, but she knew she had to get down to business and take care of the real reason she was here. And it would start by cleaning out her father's personal belongings.

It wasn't a task she was particularly looking forward to—going through his things. Even thinking about doing it felt wrong, like she was invading his person space. But she had to remind herself that he wouldn't care. He wasn't alive. Whether she planned to sell or keep the ranch, it had to be removed regardless. And, with any luck, maybe doing the manual labor would help her come to a decision about that problem.

After last night, all she wanted to do was sell the damn thing so she could leave all these people behind. It would be simpler that way. She wouldn't have to ingratiate herself to them and vice versa just to maintain a pleasant environment. From what she could glean from Loki, the land from the sale would give her a rather large payday, though he had kept his cards close to his chest. He refused to give her any definitive deal until she took the time to meet with him at his main offices in Phoenix. She had tentatively agreed to meet him down there on Friday, but she hoped that her decision would be made before then. After the way Steve had warned her about Loki's business plans, she was thinking twice about the meeting.

Evie got out of bed and dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, heading in the direction of the bathroom. She combed through her tangled hair and pulled it back into a pony, mentally preparing herself for the battle ahead. When she finally made it to her father's bedroom, she paused and took a deep breath before pushing the door open. She didn't know what she'd find inside, but as she stepped past the door, she realized it was completely ordinary. It looked as though someone had already been in to clean up. The bed had been made, everything was dusted and put back into place. It was eerie. But she was also thankful to whoever had the care to do the clean up. No doubt when her father was placed in the hospice, there had been a multitude of medical accoutrements here that had to be removed. She didn't know if she would have been able to handle that.

But even as she thought it, she knew the only person who could have done it would be Steve. She sighed, thinking of the handsome man no doubt somewhere on the ranch doing his completely normal, blue collar work. However, he was anything but normal, and that was what intrigued her. He was a mystery. She barely knew him, but she sensed that though the others last night had the benefit of length of friendship, they still didn't particularly know _him_, either. He didn't get personal, and that was the way he preferred it. But why? He didn't strike her as the type to have any sordid past.

Evie shook her head to clear her thoughts and glanced around the room again, making a game plan. First, she would tackle his closet, get rid of his clothes. It seemed like a reasonable place to start.

She settled into the rhythm of pulling things out of the closet and folding the hanging items into piles to later put in boxes for charity. There wasn't much hanging except a few old suits that had clearly been purchased in the seventies, and jackets and sweaters. His selection of shirts was comprised of button downs of all types and fabric, all folded in the exact same, starched way like they were on display at a store. Evie never had the patience for trying to fold shirts like that, and it boggled her mind that he did. And that didn't even include the creased jeans part of his wardrobe.

It was as she was organizing these piles of clothes that something on the nightstand closest to his bed caught her attention. She probably would have looked right past the thick book had it not had her name printed in her father's neat lettering on the front. It was a basic black cover—faux reptile skin—but for the small white square where a title would have gone with her name. In a way, she didn't want to know what she'd find inside it, but her curiosity quickly got the better of her.

She grabbed the book and sat down on the bed. It took her only a few seconds to ascertain that it was a scrapbook of sorts, though there weren't the frills of a regular scrapbook. There were pictures of her as a baby, at the hospital with her beaming parents. They both looked so happy, her mother with that ridiculous, over processed perm that made her look like a poodle. Most of the pictures in the beginning featured her mother and her, but there were also ones with her father. She paused on one picture of her as a baby. She stood between her father's large boots, tiny baby hands gripping each of his thumbs for dear life as she balanced on new, unsure legs. The smile on her face was gummy, but ecstatic as her father, who looked so youthful and happy, laughed above her. She'd never realized how much she looked like him until now. Maybe it was because she never remembered him smiling. He always seemed so grim.

The pictures progressed chronologically as she aged, but as they did she also noticed a change in her parents. They weren't happy and it was evident in their expressions. It was almost as though they were putting on the best show they could for her and the camera. There was another picture of her and her father having a tea party. He sat in one of the tiny chairs of her play table, knees to his chin. He balanced a saucer on them and held the plastic pink tea cup, his pinky finger extended as he sipped the imaginary drink. The ridiculousness of this was only amplified by the fact that he proudly wore a feather boa around his neck and a small tiara on his head.

On the next page, there was one picture. She sat on the back of a horse in front of her father. The smile on her face looked gleeful, as her father looked down at her, his eyes and expression shielded by the wide brim of his cowboy hat.

Time passed through her third birthday, and the pictures of her birthday party. Somehow her father had been covered in cake icing, while she'd remained relatively clean. A few more with her mother's parents, who looked supremely out of place in front of the barn in their fancy, well pressed clothes. They were affluent city people, and Evie had heard at length how much they had disliked their son-in-law. How he wasn't the right choice for her mother. She wondered more and more if she didn't think about her father in such a poor light because of them.

It was the two pictures on the next page, though, that truly took her breath away. The first was a profile shot of both her father and her, sitting at a table and staring at each other, mirror images as they rested their chins on her fists. This was the stern, thoughtful father she remembered. He looked pained and worried. Contemplative. She knew this had to be around the time her parents' relationship truly ended. It would explain his sadness.

The picture below it was of the same set because they were both wearing the same clothes, but they were in the living room this time. She sat in his lap on the couch and was in the midst of kissing the tip of his nose when the photo had been snapped. The expression on his face was one of pure, unadulterated love and contentment. The lines of worry in his young features had become nonexistent in this picture. He had softened.

And it made her sob.

Evie had to close the book, when her vision became too blurry from the tears to be able to see the pictures. She'd always heard that pictures were worth a thousand words, but these had to be worth at least a million. For a man who had never been overly loquacious, his actions and reactions in these photos spoke more than anything else could have. And he knew they would; that was why he'd left this out for her.

She reached for a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. How could she have been so clueless? It didn't wash away years of his inactivity in her life, and some of the most important words that should have been said, but it was a small stitch to mending a gaping wound.

The front door downstairs opening and closing startled her and she jumped up from the bed, frantically wiping at her eyes when she heard Steve's voice, "Evie?"

"Yeah!" she called, her voice emotional and watery. "Up here."

His heavy footfalls were on the stairs and he came into the room as she clutched the book to her chest, unwilling to put it down. Steve froze in the doorway, looking at her closely. "Your, uh… your cell phone must have fallen out of your purse in my truck last night. It's been ringing off the hook."

She noticed the device in his large hand as he held it out for her. His body language was stiff and uncomfortable like the night before when he had come out to the park to find her. Clearly, he didn't like crying.

"Oh, thanks." She took a few steps toward him but paused when a white envelope fell out of the book and fluttered to the ground. Evie bent to pick it up and set it aside with the book. She'd look at it later. "I can't believe I have service out here."

Steve shrugged. "It's spotty, but better here at the ranch."

Evie nodded her head and took the phone, looking it over and checking to see who had called. There were three calls from Charlie, one from a number she did not recognize, and a final one from her father's attorney.

"Thanks," she said.

He didn't move from his spot, and as she glanced up at him, she could see the concern etched in his face.

"I'm fine," she replied softly. "Really."

"You're sure?" he asked.

"I am." It sounded hollow to her, but she didn't want his pity. He was uncomfortable enough around her as it was. "I swear next time you find me I won't be crying."

He had the good grace to chuckle at her words and glanced quickly to the floor and back up to meet her eyes. "Elizabeth, you can cry as much as you want. I understand."

She sighed. "I thought I told you to stop calling me that."

"Why do you hate 'Elizabeth' so much?" he asked.

"I just don't like it," she replied. "You know how parents saddle you with names you don't like?"

"I wouldn't know," he replied. "Steven has never bothered me."

"So I can call you Steven?"

He pursed his lips and nodded. "If you want."

"I see I'm going to get nowhere with this argument."

"Probably not." He turned around and started back for the stairs. "I've got to get back to work. We're moving cattle today."

Whatever that meant. Evie watched him go and looked back around the room, but stopped when her phone started ringing with the number she did not recognize.

"Hello?" she said into the phone.

"Hello, Elizabeth Coulson, please," said the voice on the other end.

"This is she."

"Hello, this is Mary with Enterprise. We are calling you to let you know that the tow truck is at the rental car and waiting for you," she said.

"Oh, I will be there in about ten minutes," she said. "I'm sorry… I had misplaced my phone."

"No worries, Ms. Coulson. Please call us if you have any questions," Mary said. "Have a good day."

"Thanks." Evie hung up the phone and left the room to find shoes and her purse. At least that was one worry off her mind.

* * *

After meeting with the tow truck and seeing the rental car off, Evie took a detour into town to buy some packing supplies for all of the stuff she would have to get rid of. Blissfully, no one she knew stopped her to talk and she made it out of the shop in a short time. When her father's attorney called again, however, she also stopped into his office to sign some paperwork. He reassured her that he would have the final numbers by the end of the week regarding the inheritance taxes she would have to pay on her father's estate.

With that business done, she started the trek back to the ranch. Steve was standing out in front of house, one leg resting on the stair entry as he spoke to someone sitting on the porch. As she rounded the corner to park, she realized it was only Charlie.

Charlie smiled and made her way down the front stairs as she got out of the truck, throwing her arms around her. "Oh, Evie, I've been so worried about you. Every time I've tried to call you since yesterday, you didn't answer... and I didn't know what to think."

"I'm fine," Evie said. "We had a mix-up with the phone... and I don't get much cell reception out here."

"Oh," Charlie said. "How are you? I knew I should have come out with you. Is everything going okay?"

"Charlie, take a breath and slow down," Evie replied.

Charlie stepped back from her and took two breaths. Evie looked past her and at Steve, who stood still, trying not to intrude on the moment.

"Didn't Steve tell you everything was alright?"

Charlie nodded. "Well, yeah, but I had to see for myself."

"I'm fine," Evie repeated. Maybe she'd finally start believing it.

"I don't believe you," Charlie said after a few moments of searching her face. "But I know you won't admit it even if you were doing poorly. Let's go inside. I need something to eat. I haven't had anything in forever."

"Will you help me with these things?" she asked, pointing into the bed of the truck.

"Sure."

"I've got it," said the voice behind them.

Evie turned and looked at Steve, having forgotten he was there. "It's okay, Steve, we can manage."

"You go spend time with Charlie," he said. "I can take them in for you. Where do you want them?"

"My dad's room, please," Evie said, knowing she wouldn't win an argument with him.

Steve nodded his head and went to work while Charlie dragged her inside the house. They went into the kitchen to forage for food, but Evie realized she hadn't been shopping for food yet so it was a surprise to open the door to a fully stocked refrigerator, filled with fresh food as though it had just been placed there. Just like her bedroom, and her dad's bedroom, everything had been done for her, no doubt because of Steve's thoughtfulness. She just couldn't believe he did this all on his own volition and he didn't ask for anything in return. It was so unlike many of the people in her life.

"Fix what you want," Evie said. "I don't even know what all we have. Steve just stocked everything for me."

"Okay." Charlie opened a cabinet and came out with a box of pasta to boil and bottled marinara. "You want some?"

"Yeah, I could eat," Evie replied as Steve made a second trip past the kitchen door and up the stairs to the second floor. "I'll be right back."

Charlie nodded her head as she left the room. Evie ran into Steve on his way out the door, but she stopped him by grabbing for his arm. He paused and looked at her. "What?" he asked.

"Thank you, Steve," she said. "For everything..."

She motioned to the kitchen and a small, warm smile spread across his lips. "It's my pleasure, Evie."

Evie couldn't keep the smile from forming on her face.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked.

"No, I'm good," she replied.

"You know where to find me," he remarked and left the house then, closing the front door. Evie sighed and shook her head, turning back around only to come face-to-face with Charlie.

Her friend chuckled and shook her head. "I knew your abstinence wouldn't last long."

"It's not like that, Charlie."

"Oh, it's not?" Charlie asked. "That's why you're all starry-eyed."

"Stop right now," she said. "I'm not getting into another relationship."

Charlie huffed. "He's like a million times better than any of your other boyfriends. And hotter, too."

"It's not like it matters anyway. He doesn't want anything with me," Evie said. "He's just being nice and guided by some promise he made to my father."

"Yeah, okay." Charlie cast a skeptical look that was quickly followed up with an eye roll. "I'm just gonna say that whatever happens, compared to your last fuckwit, Steve is... the perfect man."

"You've known Steve for like five whole seconds," Evie said.

"I know. And in that time, I can tell you, this guy is legit a good guy. Not like Smith."

Evie frowned. "I've never heard you speak so poorly of your colleagues before."

Charlie pursed her lips and sighed.

"Why did you leave, Charlie?" she asked. "You said you quit. Were you telling me the truth?"

"I was," Charlie said. "Your boy toy made a pass at me."

Evie didn't understand the words coming out of her friend's mouth. "Huh?"

"Smith hit on me," Charlie replied. "I was working in the lab the night after you left... and he made a pass."

"Fucking asshole," Evie said.

Charlie shrugged. "Once a cheater, always a cheater... I'm not surprised. Working for you was the only thing keeping me at the university. You know that. So I quit. I figured if you weren't going to be there, then why stay?"

"I plan to go back," Evie replied.

Charlie have her a stern look. "You honestly think you'll be able to go back and work with Sleazy Smith there? He's tenured. You're not."

"I don't know," Evie said. "I just… I just have too much on my mind right now to figure it all out. I don't have the answers to everything."

"You don't need to get bitchy," Charlie said. "I didn't mean to make you angry. I'm sorry if I did."

"My anger exists on many levels. I didn't mean to lash out at you."

Charlie nodded and reached out for her, placing a comforting hand on her arm. "Let's have a nosh and then we'll forget about work and I'll help you with stuff here."

Evie smiled tightly. If it were only that easy.


	8. Chapter 7

_A/N: I've decided to use Col. Philips, as well as including other elements of the WWII Captain America storyline in this story, but adapted to the current day. Project Rebirth is also used—but is something completely different. The names I've chosen for the ranch hands have no bearing in Marvel... just names and original characters.  
_

_Again, thank you for all the support! Please enjoy this next installment!  
_

**Chapter 7**

Steve sighed heavily when he heard yet another car pull into the drive and bump along the dirt road to the front gate. If he kept getting interrupted, then he couldn't get his jobs done, and if the jobs weren't done, the livestock wouldn't be ready to load in the morning, and then the ranch wouldn't be able to prepare for deliveries and set up for the festival. It was a headache to have to deal with every single interruption, especially when things like Evie's friend arriving could have been handled by her.

He set down his tools on the work bench in front of him and looked back at his guys who were busy working with the horses. "I'll be right back."

They acknowledged him as he stepped out of the barn and watched the black SUV come to a stop in front of the house. There was no mistaking the fact that it was government, even without the special plates confirming it. He sighed and hung his head. It was the worst possible time for the Colonel to show up to do his quarterly assessments. This was beside the fact that he still hadn't had time to explain to Evie the other facet of her father's ranch. He could only imagine what she was going to say about this new development.

The driver's side door opened and the older man stepped out of the vehicle. Colonel Philips adjusted the coat of his pristine uniform and placed the hat on his head, shutting the door behind him. He grabbed his briefcase from the back seat and started for the front door. Steve debated on letting Evie handle this one, but he knew that would be wrong of him to blindside her like this.

Steve started on the path toward the house and came into view of the front door as Evie stepped out and looked at the man.

"Yes?" he heard her soft voice say.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Coulson. I'm Colonel Chester Philips, from Camp Navajo up in Flagstaff," he said, offering his hand.

"Hello…" Evie shook his hand and looked at him with confusion on her face. "How can I help you, Colonel?"

"Captain Rogers didn't tell you, did he?" the man asked.

"Captain Rogers?" Evie frowned. "You mean… Steve."

Colonel Philips nodded. "Captain Steven G. Rogers."

"He's in the military?"

"Army," Philips said.

"Army…" Evie said.

"He really didn't explain anything to you, did he?" Philips asked.

Steve sighed and shook his head. He hadn't intended to bring it up right away with the festival being the most pressing matter. Actually, if he'd been able to completely bypass this part, he would have been happy with it. But it clearly wasn't going to happen, so he continued up to the front door. Both the colonel and Evie turned to look at him. Philips' expression was of his trademark disgruntled impassivity, and Evie looked at him with wide eyes.

"Steve…" she said.

"Colonel," Steve said, stopping a moment to salute the man. "I didn't know you'd be out here this week."

Philips nodded. "When we learned of Coulson's death and the probability that the ranch would be sold, we made the choice to move up the quarterly visit. We will need to assess where to place all of the men."

"Place all of the men?" Evie murmured. "What are you talking about?"

"Of course, sir," Steve said.

"Including the state of your commission," the colonel added.

Evie stepped between the men. "Okay, first of all, this is my ranch. You need to speak to me. I don't know who the heck you are, Colonel, and this is the first I've heard that Steve is in the Army. Would somebody please explain to me what's going on?"

Steve looked at the woman. "Let's go sit inside."

She cast him a glare but invited them inside the house nonetheless. As they settled around the dining room table, she glanced between them quickly. "Excuse me a minute…" she muttered.

Steve watched her leave the room and presumably head upstairs where Charlie was still working. He looked across the table at his commanding officer, who methodically took the stack of files from his briefcase and placed them on the table.

"Is it or is it not your responsibility to manage all aspects of the project while you are here?" Philips asked.

"Of course it is," Steve said. "And I have been managing it in lieu of Coulson's participation."

"Wouldn't it have been wise to tell Dr. Coulson about her part in it?"

Steve clenched his jaw. "It did not seem pertinent to the discussion two days after her father's funeral."

"She needed to know. Laufeyson Developments has made several requests to meet with me about the relocation of the soldiers when the property was sold," Philips explained. "It was a shock to me, considering we had heard nothing from you. What would have happened if the girl sold the ranch and your men were suddenly displaced?"

"She doesn't know if she's selling the ranch. I made the decision not to do anything," he replied. "We're in a holding pattern right now."

Philips looked across the table at him and did not reply as Evie returned, this time with Charlie in tow. "This is my friend, Charlotte, Colonel Philips… I need a second set of ears. Everything right now is just blending together."

Philips stood and shook Charlie's hand as they all sat at the table.

Evie stared at him for a long moment before opening her mouth. "You're in the Army."

"Yes," he replied.

"Still in the Army… or you left the army?" she asked.

"I'm on reserve, technically," Steve replied.

"Oh." Her voice was soft and thoughtful. "I think we should probably start from the beginning."

Philips grabbed a folder from his stack and slid it across the polished wood table. She looked at the brown cover for a moment, her eyes reading the bold black letters that spelled out Project Rebirth. Inside the folder were the contracts Phil had signed when he first started working in conjunction with the Army, followed by other official documents. Steve knew she wasn't actually reading the words on the pages—rather flipping through them absently.

"When we went to war in Afghanistan after 9/11, your father opened up the ranch to returning soldiers in need of rehabilitation and acclimation into society and the civilian workforce, hence Project Rebirth," Steve explained. "I was the first soldier to be accepted into the program in 2002."

"Captain Rogers graduated the program in 2003, having fully recovered," Philips continued, "but requested to stay on the project as a CO."

Steve grunted in acknowledgement. Fully recovered was a matter of semantics. According to the Army, he was well enough to return to war. Well enough to really function and live a full life after only one year, not so much. The nine years since had contributed to most of the healing of his wounds, but there were still those that remained. However, he was well aware of the fact that no amount of counseling, drugs or trade work rehab could ever fix the deepest ones. Those would be permanent.

"I am here because we received word that you were selling the ranch," Philips said. "We have to reassign the men to other Project Rebirth facilities."

"I'm not selling the damn ranch!" Evie exclaimed. "Who told you I was selling?"

"Laufeyson Developments inquired about reassignments," Philips said.

"Laufeyson Developments can stuff it," Evie said. "I have not made a decision one way or another about what I'm going to do. You'll forgive me, Colonel, if I haven't made up my mind as of yet. Everything has been thrown at me… though I'm a little gobsmacked with this development. Why didn't you tell me, Steve?"

"I didn't have a chance," he replied.

Evie met his eyes. "This makes a huge difference, Steve. Something like this is important and effects people more than I originally thought… I thought this would just be a matter of workers looking for work if I let them go and sold the ranch. That's not the case at all."

"I apologize for not telling you." Steve could see the anger in her eyes, but there was something else there. A softness outlining the hardness of her gaze. He recognized it for what it was. Pity. She wasn't an idiot and had clearly made her own conclusions about the reasons he was assigned to the ranch for rehabilitation.

"Colonel," she said and turned to the man. "I will continue working with the Army as long as I keep the ranch. Like I said, no decisions have been made. When I do make one, Steve will know and we will work together should they need to be reassigned."

Philips nodded. "Very good. Since I am out here, do you mind if I meet with them? I conduct quarterly assessments, while Captain Rogers gives me monthly reports."

"Certainly," she said. "Actually…"

Philips looked at her when she spoke again.

"Am I able to see personnel files?" she asked. "I haven't officially met any of the other ranch hands."

"I cannot allow you to view them," Philips said. "They are classified. Your father's—and your purpose—in this endeavor is to facilitate and provide work and room and board, not to interfere with their rehab work or treatment. Captain Rogers is responsible for the coordination and handling of bringing in social workers and doctors. That is why, as I understand it, your father made him ranch manager."

"Oh, okay…" she said. "No one is… dangerous, are they? That's just what I wanted to know."

"No," Steve interjected. "And I can introduce you to them if you'd like."

She nodded. "That would be lovely."

Steve sighed and made to stand up after Colonel Philips gathered his things and stepped outside. "It's probably best that you meet them after the Colonel is done. They turn into different men when they're around him."

"Sure," Evie said, staring across the table at Charlie. Charlie had remained quiet and contemplative, not saying anything. He found it surprising, considering the fact that the little time he'd spoken with the woman before Evie returned earlier had painted her to be opinionated and talkative.

Steve left the house to join Philips and the others. The meeting turned out to be blissfully brief—with the colonel forgoing his normal inspections of their living quarters and sitting down with each of them individually. They'd only just had a visit from the VA psychologist a few weeks ago when Phil's situation had turned grave. For men who were suffering from a kaleidoscope of emotional dysfunctions, losing someone like that could have set them back on their recovery. Luckily, though, they all seemed to have weathered the death better than expected. No doubt the Army would consider it a success and ship them out again.

After walking the colonel out to his car, the man turned to look at him. "Your commission expires in December."

"I know it does," he replied.

"Have you thought about what you plan to do? We could always use men like you in a more active role—not wasting your time out here in bumfuck Egypt," he said.

Steve sighed.

"The Army invested a considerable amount of time, effort and money in your training, Rogers," he said. "You are an investment we want to keep. What do you want? You could have your pick of post."

"I am happy where I am," he replied.

The colonel nodded. "Well, think about it. This _would_ involve a promotion."

Steve shook his head. "Until that time in which the ranch is sold, I will not be making a decision. I appreciate what the Army has done for me, but it has also done just as much to hurt me."

"It's a waste of talent," Philips said and climbed into his vehicle.

Steve stepped back and saluted the man as he pulled from the driveway. Philips was one of the best men he knew, but he was also rigid and difficult to like. He was a man who had dedicated himself to the Army and did not see the Army's faults, as numerous as they were. Steve might have agreed with him in the past—and still did to some degree—but he'd changed in seventeen years. He's lost too much in that time to ever feel like he could regain that piece of him that made him the truly dedicated soldier he'd been.

His dedication belonged to the ranch now. To the land, the animals, and to the man who had brought him back from the grips of despair. That man was gone now, but his memory remained intact and all Steve wanted to do was preserve it.

He turned when he heard the crunch of a shoe on the dirt. Evie had come out with Charlie and gave him a small smile. His dedication also belonged to her now, for however long she required it.

"Are you ready to introduce me?" she asked.

Steve nodded. "I'm really sorry. I should have told you."

"I'm angry you didn't, but I honestly don't think I could have handled it at any point during the last few days," she replied. "It's really difficult to have this poor, negative image of someone in your head, and then learn what a great man he actually was. It's a crisis of conscience that I'm struggling to overcome as I begin to understand the man that was my father. I just never thought…"

He sighed. "If I'm being honest, too, I don't think it was fair that your father abandoned you only to replace it with projects like the festival and working with the Army."

She waved her hand and shook her head. "I don't even want to think about it right. I want to meet these men."

Steve smiled and showed her back to the barn. The other ranch hands stopped what they were doing the instant they saw them coming in, quickly attempting to put their persons in order even though it was a losing battle. It was late in the afternoon and all of them were covered in dust and mud.

"Phil's daughter asked that she be introduced to you all," he explained. "For the record, this is Elizabeth Coulson."

She glared at him.

"But she likes to go by Evie," he said. "And her friend, Charlie Babcock. Evie, from left to right, we have Carlos Hernandez, Jim Gregory, Stan Knowles, Mike Derrida, Oscar Ventura and Sam Devereaux."

Evie nodded as he went along, mouthing their names to commit them to memory. She smiled when he finished and walked down the line, making a point of shaking each of their hands and, in earnest, thanked them for their service in both the Army and at the farm. Though she didn't know it, it was an action that Phil would have done as he was introduced to new crew members. He'd seen him do it on multiple occasions.

"I just wanted to say hello," she said to all of them. "I didn't know about the program until a few hours ago, but I'm happy and proud to continue my father's work for the time being."

There was a cough and Mike stepped forward. "Ma'am, Captain Rogers said he didn't know what you were gonna do with the ranch…"

Evie hung her head and chuckled a chuckle of someone who long suffering, but she pulled herself together. "Mike, right now, no decisions have been made. I cannot stress this enough. If anyone asks you about it, you can tell them I have not made any plans to sell it and I have not made any plans to keep it. At this time, I'm merely trying to get everything in order to make the decisions required of me. Once I do, you will be the first people to know—not Colonel Philips, or Loki Laufeyson, or anyone else. Do you all understand?"

They all nodded and breathed sighs of relief. The true relief, though, would come only when they finally knew one way or another what was going to become of them.

"Now, I know I've taken up too much time," she said. "Please go back to work and I'll see you around."

The men dispersed to go back to their jobs. Steve could feel the change in the barn. No one was walking on eggshells now that they had actually met Evie. It was good for them to know that someone like her had inherited the ranch—someone so much like her father. She didn't know it, but the more and more time she spent around him, he realized just how much they were alike in their pragmatism. It was often at odds with her dramatics, but it was an endearing trait.

"Oh, Evie, come see the baby!" Charlie exclaimed. She had wandered off to investigate the barn.

Steve glanced down the row to the stall where Star and her new foal were resting. Evie glanced at him, as though for permission, and met Charlie at the stall. The smile that cracked Evie's lips was one of pure happiness and wonder.

Evie laughed as Star poked her head out of the bars and nudged her shoulder. She looked back at him. "You didn't say Star was the one who foaled."

"I didn't know you knew the horses," he said.

"Star was only a few months old the last time I was here," she said. "I spent most of my time out with her and her mum. Dad let me pick her name… as a peace offering between us."

Star nudged Evie's shoulder again as Evie reached out to run a hand along her neck. Steve watched with interest as she reverently pet the animal, pressing her forehead against Star's head. He would have called the reunion of two friends magical if he believed in magic, but it did make him smile. Horses were amazing creatures and the fact that the horse remembered Evie favorably after so long spoke well of her. It also told him there was more to this city girl than met the eye.

"She was your dad's cow horse," he replied. "But she hasn't been doing a lot of riding."

Evie sighed and stepped back. "Well, when she's ready, I'd like to take her out."

"So you do know how to ride?" Steve asked.

Charlie and Evie both looked at him incredulously. "I ride dressage and Charlie's a show jumper. That's how we met. She was at Cambridge, and I was at Oxford and we met at a match with the university teams."

"You know, we could use you tomorrow," he said.

"What's happening tomorrow?" Evie asked.

"We're shipping off the rest of the calves and cows to market," he said. "If we have you to drive, then it can free up the others to do the technical stuff."

"We haven't done any driving," Evie said.

He smiled. "It's not that difficult. Just keep all the cows pointed in the right direction in the herd. If you're game, I can do a brief rundown tomorrow morning."

Evie looked at Charlie who nodded her head. "What time, Captain?"

"Seven," he said. "And it's Steve."

"Nuh-uh. You are now Captain, since you prefer to call me Elizabeth." Evie laughed and grabbed Charlie's hand, pulling her toward the barn exit. Steve shook his head, glancing at the ground and scuffing his boot on the concrete. He laughed. He deserved it.

When he looked back up and around, he noticed a few of the guys watching him speculatively.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothin', Cap." Carlos held his hands up defensively and the others chuckled as they went back to work. Steve felt left out of the joke, but he didn't focus on it. He had been interrupted for the last time today. He had to get these stalls fixed.


	9. Chapter 8

_Again, my many, many thanks to you all for reading, reviewing and liking! Enjoy._

**Chapter 8**

"It is way too early for this," Evie muttered, half asleep, as she trudged downstairs the following morning at a quarter to seven. After the exciting, sad and sometimes confusing parts of the previous day, she was physically and emotionally drained. From finding that photo album, to discovering that the ranch was a rehab center, to starting to clean out her father's personal belongings, there wasn't much more that she could give to anyone else. However, she knew a good ride in the saddle always put her in better spirits, so she hoped that despite the early morning hour, she'd be put to right afterwards. And if she wasn't, she'd just come back in and pass out.

Charlie was already buzzing around the kitchen, a banana in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She looked up from where she was refilling her mug. "Good morning, sunshine."

"I hate you," Evie said. "How are you so perky? Aren't you jet lagged?"

"I slept surprisingly well," Charlie replied. "It's really quiet all the way out here. Well, except for the mooing, but that's really relaxing."

Evie nodded and dropped into a chair at the breakfast table. "Bring me a mug, will you?"

Charlie poured another, left it black and carried it over to the table. "You need to eat something, too."

"I'm fine," Evie said. "I can't eat."

"You hardly had anything yesterday, and I suspect you haven't eaten much since you've been out here," Charlie replied.

Evie gave her a hard look.

"I know how you deal with stress. You stop eating." Charlie put her hands on her hips. "Which, by the way, really, really annoys me. I always end up with a double chin when I'm stressed."

"You do not," Evie replied.

Charlie raised one brunette eyebrow at her. "What can I get you to eat?"

"I guess a banana…"

Her friend nodded her head and went to the fruit bowl on the counter, pulling one piece of the fruit off the bunch and brought it back to her. "Do I need to peel and slice it for you, too?"

Evie grabbed the fruit. "Geez, you're bossy this morning."

"I can stuff it down your throat," Charlie said. "Don't think I won't."

"Who made you my mother?" Evie asked.

Charlie's left eye twitched and she looked at the banana again.

"Fine!" Evie said and pulled back the peel as someone at the door knocked. "I'm going to get the door."

Charlie let her go without saying anything else. Evie reached the door and opened it to find Steve standing there, already looking dusty and dirty. Had he been up even earlier? His eyes made a cursory perusal of her body and stopped for a brief moment on the proper black riding boots. She shifted uncomfortably and she glanced down at them, too. They were too nice to wear out mucking in fields, but they were what she'd brought with her from England. They'd have to do.

She took a bite of her banana and looked back up, finding that he was now watching her face as she chewed. Evie swallowed. "We'll be out in a few minutes. Let me go drink my coffee."

He nodded. "See you out there."

Evie watched him walk away for perhaps a little too long, mesmerized by the tightness of his arse in blue jeans which happened to be wonderfully offset by the tan leather chaps that framed it in such an… amazing way.

"Huh," said a voice beside her. "Who knew chaps could be so… so…"

"Hot?" Evie offered.

Charlie chuckled. "Yeah."

Evie rolled her eyes and pushed away from the door. The last thing she needed to be doing was staring at Steve, and yet, as she finished her banana, he was the only thing on her mind. She grabbed her coffee and took a few large gulps, the liquid burning down her throat. With a sigh, Evie put the mug in the sink and joined Charlie outside.

"Are you ready?" Evie asked.

Charlie nodded and followed her across the path to the group of men preparing for the day. Evie was surprised to find Dr. Blake laughing and talking with the men as they saddled horses for the day of work. He noticed them and straightened up after fastening the cinch on a pretty chestnut Quarter.

He grinned. "Good morning, Evie."

"Morning," she replied. "I didn't know you'd be here."

"I come to help out when I can," he said. "It's an excuse to ride… I don't get to do it near as much as I would like to."

Evie looked at the diminutive animal standing still beside him and flicking a tail. "You're not going to ride her, are you?"

Dr. Blake patted the horse's rump. "No, my horse is the Perch over there."

Evie glanced over to a post where a huge black Percheron stood munching on the grass beneath him. "That animal is a beast."

"He does the job," Dr. Blake said with a fond laugh.

Evie caught Charlie's dumbfounded expression as she looked back at Dr. Blake. "Oh, this is my friend, Charlie Babcock. Charlie, this is Donald Blake… my dad's doctor."

"You're the one I spoke to on the phone?" she asked. "You're a bloody tree trunk!"

Dr. Blake offered his hand, but Charlie didn't take it. Instead, she stepped forward and made a slow revolution around him, sticking a finger out and poking him in various spots. The doctor didn't move and let her make the full perusal. He seemed to like the positive female attention and artfully flexed a few of his muscles beneath the snug-fitting shirt he wore showing off his spectacular body. His only reaction came when Charlie reached down to his rear and pinched his arse. The man shot forward and whipped around, looking at her with a wolfish grin and glint of want in his eyes.

"Charlie! You just met the man… What are you doing?" Evie said. "I'm so sorry, Donald."

"They just don't make men like this in Britain! I can't help it," Charlie defended. "I've never seen something like this. Not even that rugby player I dated a few years ago… my god, you're like… like Adonis. No! You're Scandinavian, aren't you? Of course, with that prominent brow ridge."

Donald nodded.

"Then you're Thor," Charlie said. "You are like every pictorial I have ever seen in my books."

"Well, my stepbrother's name is Loki," he replied.

Charlie nodded. "Then, yes, you're Thor. That's now your name."

The doctor opened his mouth to say something—probably to protest the renaming—but laughed instead, his eyes darting to Charlie's. Suddenly, Evie felt completely out of place and as though she were intruding on whatever was happening between him and Charlie. She shuffled her weight on her legs uncomfortably and felt the warmth of a blush creep to her cheeks.

Thankfully, Steve's voice interrupted her embarrassment as he stood beside her, leading a calm white and brown Paint by the reins. "So who's the better rider?"

"We're pretty evenly matched," Evie said. "Why?"

"Trying to decide what horses to give you," he replied. "Blake, give Mischief to Charlie."

"Mischief?" Charlie asked. "I'd like to get into some mischief…"

Steve looked confused, having missed the interaction between his friend and Charlie. Evie thought it was probably good that he'd missed it—if she'd been uncomfortable with it, there was no doubt in her mind that Steve would have been even moreso. Donald grabbed Charlie's waist and easily, without so much as a look of effort or a strain of a muscle, lifted her friend onto the back of the horse. Evie knew Charlie was perfectly capable of mounting a horse by herself, but she quickly realized that wasn't the point.

Charlie giggled like a little girl and situated herself in the saddle as he fixed her stirrups. He grabbed her boot-covered calf and squeezed slightly as he replaced the stirrup and moved to the other side to do the same thing. It was terribly intimate, but Charlie seemed to eat it up. Evie spun around and almost came face-to-chest with Steve; she checked herself in enough time. He gave her a tight smile.

"Then you get Comanche," he said, pointing to the horse that bobbed his head beside him.

Evie laughed. "He seems excited."

"He's always excited," he replied. "So watch out. Great cow horse, though… he just likes to work."

She grinned and took the reins Steve offered to her. Evie stepped forward and brushed her hand softly down Comanche's neck and shoulders in greeting. The horse turned and knocked her shoulder with his head. His playful spirit was refreshing. She stepped back from him and looked at the saddle. The stirrups seemed to be adjusted to the right length—had it been luck on Steve's part or did he have uncanny ability to judge stirrup length? The thought made her chuckle. It would mean he'd been looking at her legs.

"Do you, uh, need help up?"

Evie startled out of her thoughts and looked at Steve, who had a look of speculation in his eyes. "Oh, no. I'm fine. Just saying hello. Will you hold down the other side?"

He nodded his head and stepped up, pressing down on the opposite stirrup. She stuck her foot in the stirrup on her side and pulled herself up and over the saddle easily. Steve watched with some amusement as she adjusted into the seat. She was just thankful she'd been able to accomplish the task without too much embarrassment.

"How're the stirrups?" he asked.

"Good." She squeezed her thighs and Comanche took a few steps forward. With a gentle pull on the reins, he stopped. "Yep, we're good."

Steve inclined his head slightly and walked away from her toward the horse standing beside Donald's Percheron. Charlie passed her line of sight and turned her mount so that she came up beside her to watch as Steve lifted easily onto his buckskin Quarter, and Donald followed quickly after onto his impressive beast.

"What was all that about?" Evie asked.

Charlie grinned. "I'm in lust."

"You're so forward about it."

"Yes, and you should be more forward about it, too," Charlie said. "Every time you're around Steve I just feel the sexual tension."

Evie frowned. "There is no tension between us."

"Yeah," she said. "That's why you stare at his arse as he walks away."

The last bit was said loudly enough that the man in question—who had started a progress over to them—looked up and directly at them.

"I'm going to kill you, Charlie," Evie said through clenched jaw.

"No you won't."

Evie sighed heavily and cast her friend another glare as Steve's horse came to a halt in front of them. To his credit, Steve ignored the comment and cleared his throat. "Follow after me and we'll do a quick practice run out in the pasture we've already sorted."

"Okay," Evie said and eased Comanche into a trot following Steve.

* * *

As it turned out, Steve was an amazingly able teacher. He instructed them with confident directions and helped them when they were not quite getting something. Pushing cows forward and keeping them facing in one direction wasn't rocket science, though; after a quick practice round and verifying that both of them were accomplished riders, he felt secure enough to let them work with the cows they were moving toward the line of semi trucks waiting to trailer the bovines and cart them off to market.

Evie found herself on more than one occasion watching Steve more closely than she should have, ignoring the cows moving in front of and beside her. He was clearly in his element out here, and he was one hell of a horseman. She wondered if it was a skill he had only acquired since being here, or if he'd had it before he'd gone into the Army. Had the Army taught him? Had her father taught him? She made a mental note to ask him later.

His leadership ability was obvious. The way he worked with the other men was authoritative, yet compassionate with those who were obviously still learning their jobs on the ranch. He didn't mince words or sugarcoat. Like he had with her and Charlie, he would join their side and walk through something with them, demonstrating it, even if it was just as simple as getting them to adjust their seat in the saddle. Steve knew his job, but most of all, he knew his men, and it was his careful, considerate direction that the men readily responded to. She was fairly certain they would follow the man into battle if he asked it of them.

She wondered how much of that was the military influence of their past training, and how much of it was because of Steve's innate ability to bring people together. Perhaps it was a little bit of both, but it also made her question why he had chosen the military when the man could have so easily done something else. He was smart and he was well liked. In addition to his attractiveness, it would have taken him far in any career he'd chosen. Even if he had chosen a dull corporate job, he would have been a successful manager. Had his choice to join the Army been solely based on a personal altruism? He had a heart of gold and his actions backed up his kind demeanor.

And yet… and yet there was something dark there. Something he kept hidden away so he didn't have to face it. She'd seen it yesterday when they were sitting around the table with Colonel Philips and they'd been discussing the program. Steve's eyes had clouded over and he'd swallowed uncomfortably when he talked about his first coming to the ranch. Evie could only imagine why. Without looking at the personnel files, she wouldn't know why he had been sent to the farm for rehab unless he decided to divulge that information to her. She had her suspicions, but he was even more a mystery to her now than he'd been a few days ago.

So it was out in this open field that she found her mission. And that mission was to crack Steve Rogers. He may have had a heart of gold, but he was closed off and damaged in such a way he had learned to hide—the strong, silent type, as she'd heard people say before, though he was the first man other than her father that could be defined as such. But she was very good at research and would get to the bottom of the mystery before she made her decision about the ranch and left for England.

"Evie, watch out! You've got two stragglers!"

She jolted out of her thoughts and looked frantically around her. Steve had made a wide berth of the line of cattle and spurred his horse into a faster gait. It was then that she saw two black cows escaping the herd and zagging left.

"Shit," she said, reining Comanche to the left to try to head them off and turn them back around. Comanche-who knew his job very well—did most of the work and pressed his ears back as he sped up into a gallop to come around behind them.

Steve reached the cows at the same time and made a sharp turn back into the herd. Evie slowed Comanche as Steve fell into a trot beside her. "You doing okay, Evie?"

"I'm great," she said. "I was thinking about stuff."

"You need to be concentrating on this," he replied. "The little suckers will slip right past you if you don't."

Evie nodded. "I'm sorry, Captain Rogers."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Still not going to lay off of that, are you?"

"Not on your life," she said.

Steve grinned. They rode for some time in silence at the back of the column, side by side. It was companionable and for the first time since she had arrived in Prescott, Evie realized there was no other place that she wanted to be. "Thanks for letting us come out and help. I needed the diversion."

"I can always use the help," he said. "But only if you pay attention."

His jab was good-natured and it made her laugh. "Hey, I got them back."

"Only after I yelled at you," he said.

She rolled her eyes.

He reached up and removed the white Stetson on his head, brushing the long sleeve of his shirt across his forehead. A bit of his sandy hair fell back across his forehead. Even dusty, dirty and sweaty he was beautiful. He must have felt her intent gaze, because he turned to look at her. His lips quirked into an uneven smile; his sudden discomfort was palpable.

"It got hotter than I thought it'd get today," he said.

"The sun feels good. It's certainly better than the clouds and rain of England."

"England _can_ get pretty dreary," he concurred.

Evie looked at him. "You've been to England? You never said."

"Ah, er, yeah, in the service." He was flustered and he backtracked by changing the subject. "Did you, ah, put any sunscreen on before coming out?"

Evie shook her head. "No."

"You're pink," he said and then fingered the brim of the hat in his hand. He reached over with long arms and placed the hat on her head. It didn't fit her and impeded her view, but it made her laugh nonetheless.

"I can't take your hat," she said. "What about you?"

"What? This old leathery skin?" he asked.

Evie gave him a dubious look. No part of his skin looked leathery. As a matter of fact, it looked soft enough that she wanted to reach out and touch it.

"I'm tanned," he said. "You, on the other hand, have clearly been spending too much time indoors."

"Guilty. Charlie doesn't let me out of my cage much," Evie said. "She keeps all the fun field trips to herself mostly."

"What does she do?" Steve inquired.

Evie reached up and pushed the hat back so that it sat on the back of her head. It was nice to have the sun out of her eyes for a change. "She's technically my research assistant, but she's way more qualified than I am. She didn't stop at one doctorate, she has two. One in folklore and the other in forensic anthropology."

"Really?" he asked. "She doesn't seem so… academic."

"You know Indiana Jones?" Evie asked.

"Yeah."

"Our running joke is that she's Indiana and I'm Marcus Brody," she said. "I stay in the museum and the classroom, while she's out melting the faces off Nazis."

"So you don't go out on digs? That makes you a pretty lame archaeologist."

"Hey!" she exclaimed, reaching over and punching his shoulder. "I do go out on digs. As a matter of fact, we were just closing one up when I got the call about Dad."

"What were you studying?"

"A stone circle. There were some artifacts there that washed up with a good rain," she said. "It was trash, basically. That's what I was looking at on my phone the other night at the bar. I was convinced we'd find something useful, but the initial reports from Charlie proved that it wasn't particularly earth shattering."

Steve chuckled and shook his head. "It sounds thoroughly boring."

She shrugged. "Sometimes it is."

"Would your research translate to something out here if you kept the ranch?" he asked.

Evie looked at him for a long moment. He was also artful in interrogation. Without realizing it, she'd allowed him to bring the conversation back around to the ranch. "If I keep the ranch, I won't be staying. My entire career is back in England."

She said it, but it was just the pragmatic answer to the question. Her entire life was back there. Despite the current situation with Dr. Smith, it was _still _her life.

"You would be able to keep the ranch going without me, wouldn't you?" she asked.

He nodded. "Without a doubt."

"Then you would stay and manage it? You wouldn't go back into active duty?"

The question was the first to really bother him. She saw him closing up even before the words had fully left her mouth.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said.

"So you don't want to go back on active duty," she replied.

He sighed. "I said I don't want to talk about it. Besides, we have work we have to do."

With that, he spurred his horse forward and left her trotting along in the back, still wearing his hat.


	10. Chapter 9

_Many, many, many thanks to all the readers and reviewers! If you have a moment, I'd love to hear from you!_

**Chapter 9**

Steve sighed to himself as he tossed another bag of feed from the back of the delivery truck onto the ground. He enjoyed this repetitive manual labor more than he probably should have, but it kept his attention and allowed him to shut his mind off. It was the one thing he loved most about this job—being so busy with everything else meant he didn't have long stretches of time to sit in silence and consider his own grief.

It was a surprise to him that it _wasn't_ grief that bothered him today, resulting in his need for the manual, physical type of labor. Well, not exactly grief. The pain was still very much alive in him despite having learned to cope with it and the resulting depression. He was certain he would never be free of that torment, even if he could control how he dealt with it. How did someone repair the holes left in his heart and soul after the loss of his fiancé and a best friend? He'd been given Band-Aids, but they didn't fill up the holes.

Now, however, the pain was confounded by the very sudden awareness of his new boss. Of course, even then it wasn't sudden. It wasn't like a flash of lightning had come down and struck him, making him notice her. It'd been building over the last few days in little ways. He'd noticed it in his reaction when she smiled a genuine smile, or that he was amused by her penchant for old British rock band shirts. He'd caught himself feeling more than attracted to her physically. For just minute earlier this morning while talking to her, he'd experienced a quiet mind for the first time in a very long time.

To him, that was a good sign. Perhaps it meant that he really was on the mend. But he hadn't expected the deeper awareness… that completely unsettling one that had come while they were driving the cattle to the trucks. He realized he liked talking to her now that the veneer of ice had mostly melted away. This feeling tugging at his heart was something he did not want or need; he felt terrible even contemplating it. He refused to feel for Evie that which should have been reserved for another woman, no matter how unreachable she was to him.

Steve paused as he straightened up and rubbed a cloth-covered arm over his sweaty forehead. Maybe the manual labor wasn't helping as much as he thought it was; the fact that his mind had drifted back to Evie and the very real, traitorous feelings that were developing for her disgusted him. All this talk of England, with English guests, was playing games with his mind and only making him wish he had Peggy at his side again. That was all. This wasn't an interest in Evie; it was for what she represented to him. It was simply all of his repressed feelings coming to the surface with the aid of these triggers.

Blake came out of the second barn with Charlie trailing behind him. She looked like the cat that got the cream as she hurriedly fixed the wavy brown hair that had clearly had two huge hands in it only a short time ago. Steve grumbled and rolled his eyes, turning back to his work.

"What's your problem?" Blake asked as he hurriedly tucked the front of his shirt back into his jeans.

Steve shot him a glare.

Blake shook his head and picked up two bags of the feed and put it over his shoulder. He disappeared into the storage shed, dropped off the bags and came back out. "You know, it's been almost eleven years, Steve. It's time to move on."

"I don't want to talk about it," Steve said.

"If not now, when? You need to finally confront it, Steve."

Steve looked at his friend. He didn't need a lecture from him, no matter how much he respected his opinion. All anyone had ever done was lecture him about it… his friends, Colonel Philips, the Army psychologists… all of them had tried to convince him to move on. They just didn't seem to grasp the concept of love.

"I've been perfectly fine for the past eleven years," he said.

Blake grunted and grabbed a few more bags. "If you call what this is 'perfectly fine,' then sure. But what I see isn't even close. You've gone eleven years without thinking of another woman. Now that you're confronted with one very viable option, you're running scared."

"I'm not confronted with anything," Steve replied. "She's simply my boss… Coulson's daughter."

"Did I or did I not see you two flirting earlier?"

"How could you have? You were so concerned with getting into Charlie's pants," Steve muttered.

Blake rolled his eyes. "I didn't have to work at getting into anything. She made it very easy… and believe it or not, I am quite aware of what goes on around me."

Steve threw the last bag onto the ground and hopped out of the bed of the truck. He slammed the tailgate into place and turned to look at Blake. "Don't make a big deal about this."

"Steve, it's been eleven years. You have urges and needs. You can't be a monk forever," he said.

"Don't _you_ start in on the psychobabble now! I sure as hell don't need it from you."

Blake's shoulders slumped. "I just want you to move on. To experience a full life. I know I never knew Peggy, but she wouldn't want you living in this hell."

"It's not a hell," he said. It was a bald faced lie and Blake knew it.

"You stay at the ranch to keep from being exposed to the real world," Blake said. "Your avoidance techniques are legendary. Don't think I don't realize that's what you're doing. It's a boys' club out here, and the only women you have any contact with are Nat and Maria... Nat is off limits, and Maria... is, well... she's Maria. You don't even have any female soldiers who come out here for rehab. You can't sequester yourself here and leave it to nods and short conversations with other women in town, especially if Evie ends up selling the place and you're back out in the real world again. You've completely failed in re-acclimating yourself back into society. Isn't that the reason you're out here in the first place?"

"Re-acclimating is not the same as having meaningless sex with the first available woman who pops up," Steve replied.

"She's not the _first_ available woman. Ever since I've known you, women have been trying to get you to notice them. Droves of them! There's plenty of availability in this town. The difference here is that she's the first one _you've_ had any positive reaction to. And don't try to deny it, because you know I'm right."

"If by positive you mean she gets under my skin, then sure," Steve said and bent down to grab a bag. He hoisted it over a shoulder and looked at his friend. "But not in the way you want."

"I think it's been so long you don't recognize it for what it actually is."

Steve shook his head and grumbled, walking back into the shed and depositing the bag of feed. Blake was behind him with the last two bags. "I recognize it for what is," Steve replied.

Blake dusted off his hands and turned his eyes to him, watching his face. "I can feel the tension between you two. All of us can—even at the bar the other night."

Steve clenched his jaw. "I can't."

"You can," Blake said. "Challenge yourself to move past the loss. So you try it out and it doesn't work… at least you can say you tried."

"Will you get off my back about it?"

"Steve," Blake sighed. "You need to do this for you. Just think about it."

Steve nodded and stared at Blake's back as he turned and left the shed. He didn't need to think about it. He'd been thinking about it for the past three days. And every time, his mind kept turning back to Evie. It had to mean something, didn't it?

But even then, how did he know if she wanted anything? It'd been eleven years since he'd tried to woo anyone, and even then his relationship with Peggy just happened. There was no dating. They were on assignment together—his first assignment after graduation from West Point—and their bond had developed out of their working relationship.

Steve grumbled and stepped out of the shed, closing the doors and throwing the latch into place. He turned to ask Blake about what he should do, but the words died on his lips as Evie appeared from around the corner of second barn. She was still wearing the too-large hat on her head, but it made him smile nonetheless.

Evie pulled it from her head as she came to a stop in front of them. "Here you go, Steve… thanks for letting me borrow it."

"No problem." He took the hat and placed it on his head, catching Blake's eyes and the mischievous smile on his lips. Honestly, all Steve wanted to do was wipe the knowing grin off his friend's lips.

"So… I remember my last summer out here, there was a cookout that night after the final drive of the season," she said. "Do you still do that?"

"Your father would usually do it," Steve nodded.

"Did you have any plans to do it?"

Steve shook his head. He hadn't had the opportunity to think that far ahead.

"Good," she replied. "Charlie and I will take care of it… we just need someone to grill stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" he asked.

"I saw the stockpile of steaks in the freezer," she said. "So those."

"I thought you didn't eat meat?"

Evie laughed. "I'll pick up something for me at the supermarket when Charlie and I go shopping."

"Please don't get tofu," he said.

"And why not?"

He grimaced. "It's unnatural."

Evie rolled her eyes and turned to glance at Blake for the first time since she'd joined them. "I promise no tofu. Do you have anything against fish?"

"No."

"Good, because I eat fish. Just not red meat," she replied.

Blake chuckled and shook his head. "Pretty bad that you're landlocked, then."

"You have no idea," she said. "_And_ owner of a cattle ranch. The irony hasn't escaped me… Anyway, Charlie and I are headed out. We'll be back in a little while."

Steve watched her retreat back around the barn before he turned to look at Blake. His friend merely shook his head.

"I'm going to get this set up," Steve said. "Are you going to help me or are you going to remain imperious and patronizing?"

Blake grinned, but followed him anyway.

* * *

Evie placed the last of the groceries into the back of the truck and turned to look around, finding Charlie sailing across the parking lot on the back of metal shopping cart, the wind blowing in her hair. The cart screeched to a halt just before running headfirst into a black sports car that had barreled up the row of cars.

"Charlie!" Evie called. "Do you want to wind up in the hospital?"

"If Dr. Thor is going to be there, then sure!" Charlie called back.

Evie rolled her eyes disgustedly. She loved the woman, but there were times that she was just so ludicrously insane—like jumping off of bridges with a rubber band attached to her legs or playing in the middle of the busy parking lot—Evie wanted to shake some sense into her. Of course, now that Dr. Blake was suddenly in the picture, Charlie could have medical care when her insanity decided to strike and she hurt herself. But that still wasn't a good enough excuse to give everyone else gray hairs.

Charlie joined her side. "Calm down, Evie. I'm quite all right."

"Sometimes I wonder how we're the same age," Evie said with a shake of her head.

"Maybe you should act your age."

Evie opened her mouth to reply, but the tall man now unfolding himself from the parked black sport car caught her attention. She knew the car had seemed familiar to her. He was dressed in a pristine business suit. Honestly, he looked so out of place in this rural setting.

Charlie turned when she heard the car lock beep, and straightened up as Loki made his way over. "I'm sorry, sir…"

"It's quite all right," he said with a smile. "But it's not every day you see a grown woman riding a trolley."

She looked at Evie. "More should do it. They'd definitely be happier."

Evie grumbled. "Whatever. Charlie, this is Dr. Blake's stepbrother, Loki Laufeyson."

"Is that really your name?" Charlie asked.

Loki nodded. "On my passport and everything. How do you know Evie?"

"She's my research partner," Charlie said.

"Boss, technically," Evie replied.

Charlie laughed. "Well, if you want to split hairs. I hate being the boss. Too much politics."

"That's true in any field," he laughed. "I'm actually glad I ran into you, Evie. I wanted to see if we were still on for the meeting this weekend?"

"I guess." Evie shrugged. "In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you called off your people."

Loki didn't miss a beat and merely blinked. "We're only making a complete appraisal of the situation so we can present to you a full plan for the sale of the property when we meet. I like being prepared."

"Of course," Evie said, "and I appreciate your thoroughness, but calling the Army and riling them up has filtered down to the ranch."

He nodded. "I apologize if it's caused any undue stress for you or the workers."

"So…" she said, glancing at Charlie and then back at the tall man. "What's the plan for our meeting?"

"How do you feel about taking a drive down to Phoenix Friday afternoon? My main office is down there, and we can meet with everyone involved," he said. "If you'd like to stay the night, we can put you up at one of our hotels."

Charlie looked at her. "Set up for the festival begins that night."

"How do you know that?" Evie asked.

"Thor, er, Donald, told me. He said it starts that weekend and continues through the week," Charlie said. "You should be there."

Evie pursed her lips and looked at Loki. "Just for Friday evening?"

"Certainly. I wouldn't want to keep you away from it," Loki replied.

"They can handle it for one night without me," Evie said.

Charlie frowned but nodded her head.

"Great! I will have my assistant set everything up and let you know," he said. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Charlie."

As he walked away, Evie looked back at Charlie. Her friend pursed her lips. "I don't like him."

"Why not?" Evie asked, walking around the truck and getting into her side. It wasn't until Evie had pulled back out onto the main road that Charlie spoke again.

"I just don't get a good feeling," Charlie said. "He's the kind of guy you shouldn't be spending time with… he's like a carbon copy of every guy you've ever dated since I've known you. Smarmy, but with an air of superiority that only comes with being British."

Evie cringed. It translated into 'he's the type of man that always breaks your heart.' On many levels, Evie knew this, but she didn't want anything with any type of man at the moment, so it didn't matter to her. Still, though, she also knew that this was a question of character. Even if there was no romance or sex involved in this business decision, he still had a questionable character. And she really didn't appreciate the fact that he considered her selling the ranch to be a foregone conclusion. Well, it might have been in the beginning, but her opinions were rapidly changing.

"I have no design on him as a lover, just like I don't have any design on Steve…" Evie said. "You need to quit thinking I'm going to try to boff every guy I meet."

Charlie cast her a knowing a look. "Evie, I say this with a great deal of love, but you've always been a bit of a slut."

Evie scoffed.

"Don't give me that," Charlie laughed. "You know it's true, and I'm not blaming you for it. A girl's got needs. I've got needs. Your mum's got needs… we all have needs. You just take it to a prolific level with your terrible choices in men because you're trying to get something emotional out of them instead of just fulfilling the sexual drive. And you are weak against men like Loki."

"I am not," Evie said. "I've turned over a new leaf."

Charlie shook her head and looked out the window, their conversation effectively over. Her friend's words echoed through her head the rest of the drive home, and by the time they pulled up the drive, Evie felt terrible. Charlie had a point about her history with men. It wasn't good, to say the least. But Evie knew that, too. She ended up hurt all the time because she made stupid choices, trying to fill a void in her soul that seemed bottomless. Academically, Evie knew why she did it—with absentee parents, she was searching for acceptance and unconditional love. What she found hopping from guy to guy was fleeting at best, and never truly fixed anything. As a matter of fact, it only amplified the insecurities and made her start the cycle all over again.

Which was why she had vowed to stop the cycle after Smith. She didn't have any want to be in a relationship with Laufeyson, even though he was what had become her "type." Steve, on the other hand, wouldn't fit into the cycle. He wasn't her type by a long shot. Maybe he was a guy she should consider?

Evie shook her head and sighed as she shut the truck off. Charlie looked over at her, and reached out for her hand. "Evie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad."

Evie blinked and shrugged. "I'm fine, Charlie. As always, you're the clear head that tells it to me straight."

"I do it because I love you."

"I know," Evie replied. "But I'm being honest when I said I don't want anything to do with Loki. I don't think I'm going to sell the ranch to him as it is… but I'm a scientist. I have to entertain all possibilities before making a decision."

Charlie nodded. "I know you won't do anything with him. I've never seen you so resolved about it before. I just don't want you to give in to temptation—because I think he's going to tempt you—and ruin whatever it is you might be developing with Steve."

"I'm not developing anything with him, either," Evie said. "And this conversation is over with."

Before Charlie could say anything else, Evie pushed open the door and stepped outside. She walked around the truck, grabbed some bags and started into the house. Charlie followed with the rest and set the bags down on the counter. She wandered back into the house, leaving Evie to put things away. That was until Charlie called for her.

Evie followed her voice and found her standing in the door frame of the arcadia door that led onto the large wooden deck. A few picnic tables had been set up with chairs around the fire pit, the barbeque cleaned and ready for operation. But Charlie didn't call her back for that. No, she'd called her back to look across the open yard where Steve and Dr. Blake were splitting wood near one of the barns.

Shirts had been removed in the late day heat. Sweat glistened in the afternoon sun, trailing down taught, tanned muscles. The nature of the movement of lifting an ax and bringing it down with a great deal of strength accentuated the fact that both of the men doing it were incredibly strong and amazingly built.

Evie would have lied if she said she didn't feel a little zing of pleasure watching them do this or that her mouth watered a little bit. She had never seen more perfect specimens in her life.

Charlie let out a dreaming moan. "That is a thing of beauty."

"Real men don't look like that," Evie said.

"Oh, trust me, Dr. Thor is as real as they get," Charlie said. "I checked earlier."

Evie rolled her eyes and turned away from the door. "And _I'm_ the slut?"

"Don't criticize," Charlie replied. "Sex is one thing. At least I'm not trying to get emotional fulfillment from guys who don't have it to give, like you do."

"I'm going to get dinner ready. Please come help me when you're done ogling." Evie left her friend standing there and walked back into the kitchen, despite the fact that her mind was still outside watching the spectacle.


	11. Chapter 10

_Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**  
**_

**Chapter 10**

"Alright!" Charlie announced as she threw her cards down on the picnic table in front of her. "I've had enough of this game. I never win at it. You can have all my bloody money. I'm tired and I'm going to bed."

Evie looked at the bad poker hand she had dropped and chuckled, reaching across for the change they had been throwing in the center. "I don't know why you think you're terrible at it. It's all the same odds."

Charlie glowered and shook her head. "Yes, well, luck does not seem to be my ally when I play cards. In other areas, however…"

Evie turned and glanced toward the campfire where Steve and Donald had been sitting and talking. The other ranch hands had all slowly drifted off to their own apartments after their wonderful dinner had ended and had helped clean up most of the mess outside. She knew Donald was only waiting for the word from Charlie to follow her upstairs to her room, but he was being a gentleman and waiting for her to make the first move.

Charlie took one last drag on her cigarette and snuffed it out on the table. "Goodnight."

"Please put music on if you're going to be loud," Evie said.

"Oh, I'm making him take me back to his place," Charlie said. "I don't want to sully your innocence by doing dirty, nasty things to him within earshot. Music wouldn't help drown it out."

Evie chuckled. "I'll have none of your cheek."

Charlie giggled and shrugged, coming around the table to hug her shoulders. "What? You're as pure as the driven snow."

"Please go have fun with your plaything and leave me alone," Evie said.

"I will," Charlie said. "Have a good night. I'll be back tomorrow morning to regale you with all the sordid details."

"I'm sure you will." Evie laughed.

Charlie winked and flitted over to the two men. Donald automatically wrapped a large arm around the back of her legs and pulled her against his seated position so that her hip hit his shoulder. He looked up at her and smiled. Charlie grinned, running her hand along the man's stubbly cheek as she murmured something to him.

Evie glanced at Steve who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He always seemed so uncomfortable around women, but especially uncomfortable with couples together. She'd noticed it the other night with Maria, and also when Clint and Natasha had shared a quick kiss at dinner. Even with her, there were moments when he grew rigid and unsure of himself. It baffled her.

Donald bade his farewells to Steve and waved to her after he stood. Charlie grabbed his hand and tugged off toward the parking area and his SUV. Evie slowly gathered the cards and placed them back in the box, followed by collecting her coins and stuffing them in her pockets. When she stood, she jingled, but it only made her laugh. She moseyed over to the fire and warmed her hands for a minute before turning around and letting the heat warm her back. It was so strange to her how cold it had become when it had been so hot today, but then, she knew, that was the desert.

Steve leaned forward in his seat and rested his arms on his thighs as he stared at her unseeing. It felt like he was concentrating more on the dancing flames behind her than he was actually on her, but after a few seconds he blinked back to reality.

"Dinner was great," he said.

She laughed. "You did most of it. I just shucked corn and wrapped potatoes in foil."

Steve nodded and smiled. "I'm glad you liked my grilling skills. It's a secret that's been passed down by generations of men."

Evie laughed in amusement at his comment. "How very caveman of you, Steve."

Luckily, Steve laughed. "Sometimes we like reverting to our Neanderthal roots."

"Did your dad pass onto you the most noble and ancient art of grilling?" she joked.

He shook his head. "My father died when I was very young."

"Oh, I didn't…" Evie bit her lip. "I'm sorry."

"I hardly knew him," Steve said.

"How did he die?"

"Car accident."

Evie nodded and sat down on the chair Donald had vacated. "I'm doubly sorry."

Steve looked at his hands and flexed them slightly, picking at imaginary dirt. "Eh, don't worry about it."

"Then who taught you how to grill?" she asked, desperate to change the subject to something other than him ruminating on the loss of his father. Though he said it wasn't a big deal, she could tell it affected him more than he was willing to let on.

"Bucky's dad taught me…" he replied. "Bucky was my best friend… like my brother."

"Was?"

Steve's head shot up as though he hadn't meant to say anything like that. He looked panicked and visibly swallowed back emotion, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Y-yes. He died in Afghanistan, a few months after we entered the war."

Evie reached out for his hand. It was an involuntary reaction, but it was the only way she could think to soothe him. He jerked away slightly in surprise, though he relaxed and allowed her to squeeze his hand.

Clearly, she wasn't going to win here if she kept talking. Somehow everything she said brought up painful memories for the man. But that realization also hurt her heart. For what she knew of him, he was a good man. A kind man. He didn't deserve to live in pain like that.

"He was a few years older than me and joined the Army before I did," Steve said. "I so wanted to join the military… I wanted to fight for my country. I wanted to protect the people who couldn't do it themselves. But I was a ninety pound weakling out of high school, so my chances of making it a career were slim."

This sudden outpouring of information was surprising to her, but she knew it was best just to keep her mouth shut just for once to let him speak. Still, his last comment made her balk. "I find it difficult to believe you were ever weak."

His eyes darted over to her, a light pink tinge on his cheeks. "I was. I can show you photos."

"Then what happened to you?" she asked.

"The army happened," he said.

"But you said…"

Steve smiled. "I went to West Point for college… four years in physical training and a few remaining growth spurts later, I was ready to go."

"Clearly," she remarked under her breath, but he'd heard it anyway. Evie chuckled sheepishly and withdrew her hand from his.

He sighed. "It's why Colonel Philips wants me back on active duty… well, not just Philips. The Army in general wants me back in fighting form. They paid for my education and training, and I owe them quite a bit in return. I would have never been to college without them—my mom died when I was seventeen and it ate up the savings she'd had for my education."

"Oh, Steve," she said. He sounded so odd as he told her all this—so wooden and mechanical—like he had detached himself from the emotions he should have felt every time he thought about the past. It was a coping technique at its finest. "Please, stop. I didn't mean to bring up all of this with my comment about your dad… I'm so sorry that I did."

Apparently, curiosity _did_ kill the cat. Or at least make the cat feel very contrite about wanting to snoop. She hated the fact that she'd wanted to pester him about his past earlier today. She'd expected some type of horrible event in his past that would have driven him to such a point that the Army had put him out here in the middle of nowhere to recuperate. Maybe it'd just been the rigors of war that had done it. She hadn't suspected it was like this… a whole firestorm of terrible moments in his life.

He looked over at her and actually _saw_ her for the first time since she'd sat down beside him. "I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable."

"Me, uncomfortable?" she said. "I'm not uncomfortable! I'm worried about you, Steve. I don't want to keep bringing up these memories if they hurt you."

Steve chuckled ruefully and stood up, stretching his long body out. He sighed heavily and turned back to look at her. "I live with these thoughts every day of my life. It actually feels good to talk about it without it being with someone who's looking at me as a patient."

Evie gave him a tight smile and watched him as he began putting out what remained of the fire. She shivered from the sudden cold and pulled her jumper tighter. "I should probably go finish cleaning up."

She left him and gathered up what she could of the remaining dishes on the tables. "I'll grab the rest," he offered, throwing a bucket of sand on the fire. He used a shovel to mix up the dying embers with the dirt.

"Thanks," she said and continued into the house. She was elbow deep in sudsy water when she heard his boots on the hardwoods moving through the back of the house. Evie turned as he came into the kitchen and nodded at the counter beside her. "Just put them there."

He placed the dishes he'd brought in on the counter and stepped back only to reappear at her other side with a towel to dry the dishes she had already finished.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," she said. "I'm sure you're exhausted and want to go pass out."

"I don't sleep much," he said by way of dismissing her.

"I refuse to let you do any more work." She reached for the towel and grabbed most of it out of his hand, but his grip was like a vice on a corner.

He looked at her, both exasperated and clearly amused as the right corner of his lips quirked up in a half smile. Evie pulled at the towel and he released the fabric with a chuckle and shake of his head. "I'm going to have another piece of the apple cake, though."

She smiled. "As long as you don't work."

"Are you going to object to me making a pot of coffee?"

"No," she said.

"You want some?"

"I'd love some."

"Cake, too?"

"God, no. If I eat any more I'm going to pop."

As he moved around the kitchen, obviously having made coffee in this kitchen before and knowing where everything was, Evie found it difficult not to watch him. After the ever persistent voice of her best friend in her ear today, she couldn't help but think dirty thoughts with him in context. Watching him and Blake splitting wood had been the kicker. The man was attractive and dominating, but without being arrogant like so many other men she had met in her life. He was tender. He was fragile, too, though it was clear he was brought up in the mindset that men should be strong and not show their emotions. Maybe the Army had done that to him.

She sighed heavily and forced herself to pay attention to the dishes. If she didn't, her luck would involve a trip to the hospital if she accidentally sliced herself with a knife.; Dr. Blake wouldn't be anywhere nearby to help care for the wound. When she was done, she left the dishes to dry themselves and grabbed herself a mug of coffee. She sat in the chair at the kitchen table opposite Steve. He was sitting with an empty plate and sipping his coffee as he flipped through the newspaper on the table.

"You really liked the apple cake?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Good, because it's the only dessert I can bake without failing miserably," she said. "I don't have the patience for pastries."

Steve laughed. "You can make as much of it as you want. I'll eat it. One of my professors at West Point had a wife who always baked for his classes. She made apple cake one time and I loved it. But it was the German version… they were German."

She smiled, glad that he was talking openly with her now. "What did you study?"

"International relations," he said. "Dr. Erskine taught chemistry, though. It was one of my science elective classes. Still one of the favorite teachers and one of the nicest men you'd ever meet."

Evie sipped her coffee and held the warm mug between her hands. This change in conversation was definitely nicer than the conversation outside.

"Did you have a favorite?"

"My favorite professor turned out to be a huge bastard," she said. "Brilliant. But still a bastard."

"I'm sorry," he said.

She shrugged. "It's my fault. I should have listened to my gut. He looked perfect on paper, but in actuality, he was the biggest tosser in the world."

Steve nodded, but didn't push her for more information on Dr. Smith. She was thankful for that reprieve.

"So… what did you do with an international relations background?" she asked.

"Pentagon," he said. "I can't really say much else."

Evie laughed at him. "We're really going to go with the 'if I told you, I'd have to kill you' premise?"

"We are."

"It gives you an air of mystery. Very James Bond."

She frowned as she watched the expression on his face falter and tighten. He suddenly seemed more guarded, as though a bad memory had crossed his mind. With a heaving sigh, he leaned over the table and rested his folded arms in front of him.

"I wasn't James Bond," he said. "But my girlfriend at the time was."

"A British spy?" she asked.

"Not a spy exactly, but she was in the intelligence community. She worked at the Pentagon, too," he said. "She, er, died there… on September 11th."

"Oh my god." She could barely believe what he was telling her. Of all the people in the world, Steve Rogers seemed to have the worst luck. Or at least he had the saddest story. Evie couldn't even begin to comprehend how he had been able to live with so much loss. Placed in a similar situation, she would have crumbled. But then, as she met his intense blue eyes, she knew he _had_ crumbled. It was why he'd been taken off active duty and had been sent to the ranch.

It also explained quite a bit about him. She could now understand why he seemed strange to her. Why he was so quiet and unforthcoming. Though he had obviously developed some friendships with others and was particularly concerned with the fierce protection of her father's good memory, he was protecting himself from forming deeper bonds. He did a good job going through the motions of appearing to be interested in people, but when someone tried to get closer to him, he became upset and uncomfortable. The magnitude of his opening up to her—a newcomer into his world—was staggering.

"Oh, Steve, I'm sorry," she said in a rush of air. Of course, it would figure that while she was on the constant search for an emotional bond with someone, the man in front of her was on a mission to avoid any personal entanglement that would leave him vulnerable to more pain. Never would their paths cross.

He shrugged. "They say I should move on."

"Who's they?"

"Everyone. Doctors. Therapists."

Evie sighed. "I don't think you can put a time limit on that… you just have to move on when you're ready. Was she the love of your life?"

His eyes met hers again. They were more serious then she had ever seen them as he held her gaze for a few very long, quiet moments. "I can't honestly say yes or no. All I know is what I felt at that time and I was in love with her."

"I'm sorry I can't offer you any advice," Evie said. "I've never been in love, so I don't have a frame of reference."

He looked at her. "Now _that's_ a truly sad statement."

It was her turn to shrug. She sat back in her chair and sighed. "There were a lot of times where I thought it was love, but it was just infatuation or purely sexual. Nothing where I'd be pining after the guy eleven years later… not like you and your lady."

"Her name was Peggy," he said. "Peggy Carter."

Evie smiled. "Peggy was a lucky lady."

"Why? I took everything for granted. I thought I'd have years with her," he said, "so I didn't rush it."

She shook her head and stood up, walking around the table. He watched her as she stopped beside him and placed her hand first on his shoulder. To her surprise, he didn't shy away. Instead, he let her run her fingers across his cheek bone as she cupped her hand against his cheek.

"She was lucky because _you_ loved her for the time she was given," Evie said.

Evie wondered what it would be like if she passed away tomorrow. Would she have someone like Steve to mourn her? The answer was cold, dark and hit her squarely in the chest. No, she wouldn't. God, where had she gone wrong in this life? Why hadn't she ever found someone like him? Was she that damaged?

"Evie," he said softly.

She looked at him and swallowed back tears. "Hmm?"

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," she patted his cheek and moved away. "I'm just tired. It's been a long day."

"Then I'll head out and let you go to bed," he replied. He pushed back from the table and gathered their things, depositing them in the sink. She walked him to the door, but he paused when he reached it and turned around to look at her.

"What?" she asked.

Without any warning, he reached out and pulled her to him, wrapping strong arms about her body. Shock wasn't exactly the right word to describe the sensation going through her, but it was a good start. But it was nice. And it was comfortable as she relaxed against his strong chest and wrapped her own arms around him. He was warm and sturdy, and smelled of man and campfire.

"I'm sorry if I said something to upset you," he said. "It wasn't my intention."

Evie chuckled against his chest. "I'm fine, Steve. Don't worry about it."

"If you say so," he said. He gave her one last squeeze and stepped back. She was sad when he left her arms, but she had to let him go home. Steve didn't belong here in this house, with her. He opened the door and stepped outside. He turned again. "Goodnight, Evie."

"Night," she replied.

He escaped down the steps and briskly walked to the right toward the apartments. She waited until she couldn't see him in the dark night and shut the door. Evie flipped the lights off as she made her way upstairs. She undressed, pulled on a baggy shirt and crawled into bed. As she arranged the covers up to her chin, she realized once again that she was both cold and alone. It was the absolute worst feeling in the world.


	12. Chapter 11

_My apologies on the long wait for this. The last few weeks of major projects for the summer masters session kicked my butt. Now that I have a short break before the fall term, hopefully I'll have more time to update! Thank you to everyone reading! _

**Chapter 11**

By the time Evie made it downstairs the following morning, after a night full of tossing and turning and questioning her life choices, she was ready to do anything but work on any more cleaning out of her father's things. Working on it would only make her feel worse, she was sure of it, but there wasn't much else she could do out here in the middle of nowhere. Her choices were to either get in Steve's way or drive into town and try to find something interesting to do. But even then, it would be shopping at the tiny mall or hanging out at the local watering hole; neither option appealed to her.

So instead of doing any of that, she made herself some coffee and retreated to the family room. There she sat in the relative silence of the room, staring at the woven Navajo rug displayed over the old box television. It was bright and cheery in its red, brown and black geometric pattern, completely incongruent to the sparseness of the rest of her father's tendency toward little decoration. She sighed and shifted her eyes around the room. Little had changed since she'd last been here, but for the newness of some of the furniture. The room was a comfortable living space that could have been even more warm and inviting with some additional Southwestern artwork on the walls.

The front door opening and slamming shut startled her out of the unproductive thoughts. "Hel-lo!" sang Charlie's mellifluous voice. Already Evie knew she would be too sickeningly happy to deal with today, but it was too late to try to escape her now.

Her friend appeared in the doorway and stopped dead in her tracks, her smile dropping and her face transforming into a look of consternation. "Why are you sitting all alone in a dark room?"

Evie shrugged. "Just thinking."

Charlie sighed and flicked the switch near her on. The ceiling fan light illuminated the space instantly. Charlie's frown only deepened. "What's wrong?"

"I didn't sleep well," she replied. "Too much on my mind."

"What the hell happened after I left you last night?" Charlie plopped onto the couch beside her and placed her purse on the coffee table.

"Nothing happened," Evie said.

Charlie was unconvinced. "You're lying to me."

"Nothing happened!" Evie replied. She stood up resolutely and left the room in search of one of the empty packing boxes they'd put together a few days ago. When she returned, Charlie was still sitting on the couch and didn't say anything, simply watching her with inquisitive dark eyes. It was the anthropologist in Charlie that made her curious. "Stop looking at me like I'm a case study."

Charlie scoffed. "I'm not looking at you like that."

"Yes, you are," Evie replied and went to a bookshelf. There she began removing and tossing the knickknacks, magazines—anything she could get her hands on—into the box. She only became angrier as each article went into it.

Her friend carefully stood and joined her side. She reached out, placing a hand on her arm to still her for a moment. "Evie, stop. Come talk to me."

"I don't want to talk," she said. "I want to do this."

She tossed in a picture frame that shattered on impact.

"Evie!" Charlie's demeanor suddenly turned from soft to hard. "Stop it! Just tell me what the bloody hell's happened to you since last night."

Evie pushed away from her and continued tossing.

"Did something happen with Steve?" she asked carefully.

"What? No!" Evie replied.

Charlie's face lit up for a moment, obviously believing she had found the reason behind this attitude. "Your words say one thing, your body language another."

"Nothing happened with Steve," she said. "And nothing ever _will_ happen with him. Quit badgering me about it."

"Ah," Charlie said and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why do you say that?"

"Because it won't," Evie replied.

"But you wanted something to happen. I mean, not last night… but you were considering it."

Evie paused for a brief moment, but didn't dignify her words with a response.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain girl that Steve is still pining after, would it?"

"No, it has nothing to do with that," Evie said.

Charlie's expression was one of disbelief.

"How do you even know about that?"

"Donald told me," Charlie replied.

"What? We're off the Thor bit now?"

Charlie shrugged. "Thor will be reserved for very special occasions. You're changing the subject."

Evie rolled her eyes and turned to the VHS tapes and DVDs on the current shelf she was working on.

Charlie didn't leave, though. "So, it's not about her."

"No, it's not," Evie replied.

Charlie said nothing else and walked back over to the couch and sat down. Evie considered her for a moment, but turned back to her work.

After a little while, Evie felt the rage rising within her to such a point that it could no longer be contained. It was going to come out whether she wanted it to or not. Despite the therapeutic effect of throwing and breaking things, she had to let it loose eventually.

"You know what my problem is?" Evie asked.

"No, I don't know what your problem is, seeing as you refuse to tell me." Charlie's voice was droll.

Evie huffed. "My problem is that everyone on this fucking planet seems to have someone to care or worry about them, but I have no one."

Charlie flinched at her words; Evie knew what she'd said had hurt her. Of course Charlie had always been there for her. Instead of commenting, though, Charlie just sat back and allowed her to continue.

"I have no one!" Evie exclaimed. "No one who loves me like… like Steve loved his girlfriend. It's been how long and he still misses her? What's it like to be in love like that? What's it like to know that someone loves you like that? That they would do anything to have you back? I just don't know."

Charlie watched her.

"And it's not even that! I don't even matter to the people in my life that should care!" Evie said. "My mother still hasn't contacted me despite my efforts to let her know about all this. My dad pretty much abandoned me for years on end because he was too concerned about other people and not his own fucking daughter."

Evie tossed another armful of books into the box. Hot, angry tears were falling down her cheeks. She paused for just a moment to wipe at them, but doing so didn't stop them.

"Who am I ever going to have when I die? Who will ever love me so much that they remember and care about me so many years later?"

Charlie got up and came over again, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Evie, love, please just stop for a minute and take a breath."

Evie separated from the shelves and turned to Charlie. "I just can't do it, Charlie." She lifted the small disc she had found with a sticky note and her name. It was her father's writing. "I just can't take this breadcrumb shit any more… like coming across albums and photos and videos are going to make me feel fucking loved. Like it's going to make it all better between us. He wasn't there. He was never there. And it just makes me so… fucking…_angry_! A-and scared and lonely…"

Charlie tore the disc case from her hand and set it aside, pulling Evie bodily away from the shelves. She took her face between her hands, forcing Evie to look at her. "Evie, you're not alone. My god… I don't know what brought all this up today… but you're not alone. I love you. You are my sister more than my friend. Don't _ever_ think you are alone, because you aren't. Yes, I know I'm not your mum or your dad or some idiot boyfriend. But I'm here for you. I flew halfway across the globe to be here _for you_. Don't you see that?"

Evie nodded her head feebly. "I know… I-I'm sorry…"

Charlie hugged her tight against her body, rocking slightly as she would a small child who needed comfort. Evie accepted it, though. She knew Charlie would never willingly abandon her like all the others had, but sometimes it was just nice to hear it from her.

"Babe, I'm not going anywhere," Charlie said again. "I'll be right here for you. I promise."

Evie sighed heavily and pulled away, wiping at her eyes. "God, what am I turning into? It seems like all I do is cry these days."

"You're grieving, Evie," Charlie replied. "It's expected. If we're going by the Kübler-Ross model, I'd say we just experienced anger."

Evie couldn't contain a watery laugh. "Oh, we're descending into the namby-pamby world of psychology, are we?"

"If it makes you laugh and puts it into perspective, then we bloody well are," she said.

"It does," Evie replied and placed her hands on her hips. She looked at the disaster she had created in the box before she glanced back at Charlie. "Will you help me?"

"Of course I will," she said. "And tonight you and I are going to town and getting drunk. Deal?"

Evie sighed. "Yes. It's the best idea you've had since you arrived."

"Good." Charlie knelt down to begin organizing the disaster box.

* * *

Steve carefully moved away from the living room window when he could no longer hear the voices within clearly. He knew he shouldn't have stopped to listen into a private conversation that turned into an argument, but his curiosity had been piqued the instant he realized they were talking about his relationship with Peggy. At first, he'd been irritated that Donald had said something the Charlie about it, and then that Evie brought it up to Charlie, but it quickly dissipated as Evie's rant continued.

He felt somewhat responsible for disturbing Evie so deeply last night with the tale of his life, but she had seemed receptive to it and he had appreciated the fact that he could talk to someone who wasn't a guy. It was nice to have a woman's perspective on it after so long. He knew he'd affected her in some way before he'd left, but he didn't realize the conversation had hurt her as much as it did. Not until now.

The sheer anger and spite in the words she spoke about her father and mother were painful for him to hear, especially when he held one of those people in such high esteem. Phil had been a pseudo father to him since he had come to the ranch. He'd been a friend and confidant. The man had truly looked after him as though he'd been a son; all the while he had obviously severely neglected his relationship with his actual child. Steve had always thought Phil didn't hear from her because it was her issue and not Phil's, but as the days passed he began to question that. Now it was confirmed for him. Certainly Evie wasn't innocent in this, but Phil hadn't tried either. He'd willingly left his daughter. No matter how much he may have said he loved her, it didn't seem to negate the fact that he had left her to a woman who obviously had not properly cared for their daughter.

It pissed him off, probably more than was strictly acceptable to feel about the situation. No person—no child—deserved to be abandoned by one parent and emotionally neglected by another. It wasn't right, and it was this issue more than anything that made his heart ache for Evie.

He marched back to the barn to replace the shovel he'd been using to dig up a dead plant near the window. The resentment coursing through him seemed alien and he hated that he was feeling like this about Phil, but Steve supposed it was probably good for him to realize it. He'd been blinded by a sort of hero-worship he had not noticed in all his time here at the ranch. Of course, he still very much respected the man for other things he had done with his life, but his overabundance of involvement in the community and in Project Rebirth seemed like he was trying to make up for the fact that he'd abandoned his child.

It also made him stop, just for a split second, to consider his own woes. For some reason, he just couldn't conjure the same misery he had been able to for the past eleven or so years at being without parents, Bucky or Peggy. Not once when they'd been alive had he questioned their love for him. They'd all been torn from his life too soon, but he knew none of them had gone willingly. The people in Evie's life—at least those that should have loved her unconditionally—had ignored her. Damaged her. They had _chosen_ to do this.

From what it sounded like in the various bits of conversation between her and Charlie over the past few days, it had also inadvertently made her move from relationship to relationship with the wrong sorts of guys looking, as an adult, for that connection that had been denied to her as a child. Last night, she'd said she'd never been in love. He'd thought it strange. But now he understood why she hadn't. She didn't know _how_ to love or care for someone, nor did she know _when_ someone felt the same about her.

He felt that he finally understood her. He understood why she had acted the way she had at the memorial services. Or why she said and did certain things. If others knew this, they certainly wouldn't be looking at her as critically. They would know why it was so painful for her to come out to Arizona, deal with all of this, and then be confronted with all of the people Phil had positively affected in his life. It was like a slap in the face. But he wouldn't tell anyone. It wasn't his right. It was her own pain and if she wanted to explain it to them, she could.

Yet, he also knew he wasn't supposed to have been privy to this information. As far as she knew, only Charlie had witnessed that outburst. He questioned how he was going to let her know he had heard without her getting angry, because he sure as hell did not view her in the same light. She'd know something had changed since they had left each other last night.

Steve sighed heavily and rested his palms flat on the work bench in front of him. He felt exhausted all of a sudden, like energy had been sapped from him. Apparently that's what happened when the axis of the world shifted just a little bit and things started to look different. His problems seemed foolish now. He had loved and been loved, and there was absolutely no reason he shouldn't move on with that happy thought in his head. He just wished it were as easy to convince his heart.

Maybe hearing this was what he needed. Maybe he had to hear another story to realize it was time for him to grow up and move on. It'd been eleven years. More than enough time to heal. Living a cloistered, sheltered life out here at the ranch wasn't going to help anyone, least of all him. Like Donald had said yesterday, it wasn't healthy to remain as he had. He had to move on.

Maybe it was only fear keeping him in his place. Fear of forgetting about Peggy and what she had added to his life while they were together. Fear of possibly never finding someone else that could love him as she had loved him. Whatever it was, he realized quite suddenly, he was ready to move on. Slowly, of course, but he would try.

"You okay, Cap?"

Steve straightened and looked around him, finding Carlos and Stan watching him curiously. He nodded. "I'm good. Just thinking about all we've got to do before Friday."

"We just finished cleaning up the little pasture for the rides," Carlos said. "All we have are little things left."

"That's great," Steve said. "Just keep plucking away at the list. I'm going to go in and do some paperwork."

Carlos and Stan nodded, walking off in the other direction to begin their next task. He sighed heavily and looked around him again. He really didn't want to do paperwork, but it had to be done. His monthly reports were due by in a week and he hadn't started on any of them.

As he started out of the barn and walked toward his apartment, the front door to the house opened up and Evie stepped outside, dropping a big cardboard box on the front stoop. Whatever was inside was obviously what she had been breaking during her rant. She righted herself, dusted off her hands and placed them on her hips as though it was a job well done and a load off her mind. As she turned to go back in the house, she caught sight of him and waved.

"Hey, Steve!" she called, motioning for him to come over.

Like an obedient dog, he went. "Yeah?"

"I just wanted to see if you wanted the rest of the apple cake," Evie said. "Neither Charlie or I are going to finish it and since you liked it so much, I thought I'd offer it to you."

"Oh, yeah, sure," he said with a laugh.

Evie smiled. "Great, I'll bring it out. Hold on."

She disappeared inside the house and he stepped up the two steps onto the front porch to wait for her. Evie reappeared with a plastic container filled with the dessert. He could see evidence of her crying, though he knew the crying he heard hadn't been the cause of such bloodshot eyes. These were only the type of eyes that came with crying for quite some time. His heart broke for her as he took the container from her hand.

"What is it?" she asked. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Uh, no." He quickly shook his head and chuckled nervously. "Your face is perfect. What I mean to say… is…"

Evie laughed. "Well, aren't you sweet… but I know what you're trying to say."

"Alright. I'm going in to do paperwork," he said. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

"Great," she replied, smiled and turned to go back inside the house.

When she shut the door, he left the porch and started for his apartment where he'd try to do paperwork. But he knew his mind was going to be on everything else but paperwork.


	13. Chapter 12

_Many thanks to everyone reading and reviewing! Enjoy this one..._

**Chapter 12**

"I can't believe everything is closed!" Charlie exclaimed as they stopped in front of yet another shop in downtown Prescott. "What backwards world have you brought me to?"

Evie laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "You said you could hack it in the wilderness."

"This isn't the wilderness. This is… this is… Mayberry. This is… I'm in the Twilight Zone and everything closes by five on a weekday," Charlie replied, jiggling the handle of the yarn shop door.

"You know, it was really lame of us to try to get into the yarn shop anyway," Evie said. "Aren't we supposed to be getting drunk? Drunk knitting never did anyone any favors."

"But I make some of my most interesting things when I'm not keeping track of stitches." Charlie pouted and sighed, blowing the brown hair out of her face.

Evie rolled her eyes. "You realize we're like eighty years old, right?"

"At least we're hot eighty-year-olds," Charlie said, quickly turning to look in the dark store window that doubled as a poor mirror. She adjusted the short black dress on her thighs and then cupped her breasts, pushing them up. "Why won't they just stay in place?"

Evie giggled. "I told you… eighty years."

Charlie shook her head and turned to her. "At least I got some. You're such a beanpole."

"Hey, anything more than a handful is just a waste," Evie said.

Her friend huffed and turned toward the exit. Evie quickly surveyed her profile to make sure the dress still looked decent in the back. She'd worried—when Charlie had made her try it on at the mall earlier—that it would ride up and cause troubles. It wasn't riding, but by god, the only reason was because it was too tight across her hips. "Beanpole my ass," Evie frowned.

"Yoohoo! Are you coming?" Charlie called as she poked her head back around the corner.

Evie nodded and quickly followed after her friend. After the trying, emotional day, she was glad to have Charlie here with her. If nothing else, she had the innate ability to make her forget about whatever was troubling her, even at the worst of times. She'd succeeded in it, making sure to pull her completely away from the ranch and anything having to do with her father. Even though Evie hadn't wanted to go shopping or get dressed up, it felt good to do something _other_ than packing.

"You know the only places open are the bars and clubs on Whiskey Row," Evie said.

Charlie nodded as they turned right and stepped out onto Montezuma Street where Whiskey Row began. "Well, that's what our goal is, isn't it?"

Evie chuckled and followed her friend. This part of the small town was lively, but she imagined it was probably because of the tourists. The sound of a deep bass beat filled their ears as they neared the busiest area.

A large bouncer sat on a stool outside, checking identification, stamping hands and letting people in the doors. He was the type of guy you didn't want to cross in a dark alley. A lull in the crowd allowed her the opportunity to recognize the man as someone who had been at her dad's funeral, but she couldn't for the life of her remember his name. "Hello, ladies," said the deep rumbling voice as they neared him. "You going up?"

Evie eyed the long staircase up to the second level, each stair face painted in the full spectrum of a rainbow. The order repeated three times up to the entrance. _The Rainbow Club_ was printed in neat, elegant gold writing on the door. "Gay club?"

"Everyone club," the man said, his lips splitting into a smile. "If you like music, dancing and fun."

"That sold me," Charlie said, fishing for the identification from her purse.

Evie pressed her lips together. She still wasn't much in a dancing mood, but it would be preferable to walking around Prescott any longer. Evie produced her ID. The bouncer stamped their hands and allowed them up the stairs.

They stepped into the main room, not knowing what to expect. Knowing the area it was in, she expected to find a country band on the stage. Whether a country band on some nights or not, tonight they were playing Latin music. The décor of the club seemed to be all in gold leaf, making it look expensive and austere. The clientele were of the younger sort and clearly the attractive crowd.

"Let's go sit at the bar," Charlie said, pointing out two seats that had just opened up. As soon as they sat down, the bartender appeared to take their order. When he went to mix their drinks, Charlie looked at her. "This is nice!"

Evie nodded and looked at the dance floor again. "My feet already hurt, though. I don't want to dance."

Charlie laughed. "Well, we'll have a drink or two and move on. We've got a whole street of bars to hit tonight, and it's still early."

"How are we going to get back to the ranch tonight? I don't want to sleep in the truck," she said.

"We'll rough it." Charlie clapped her hands gleefully as the bartender set their drinks down and then filled two shot glasses with tequila.

"Compliments of Mr. Laufeyson," said the man, nodding his head to the opposite side of the circular bar. Laufeyson sat with a pretty blonde woman as they spoke lowly to each other. Both glanced in their direction and he lifted his short glass of amber colored liquid. He said something to the blonde and she closed the leather bound book in front of her with a snap. She stood up, flicked her hair over her shoulder and sauntered away with a swing of her hips that Evie felt was particularly haughty.

She shared a glance with Charlie, who shrugged and reached for the shot glasses. Evie stared at the second one as Charlie set it in front of her. "Come on, love, bottoms up."

Evie picked up the glass and downed the liquid, eyes watering a bit at the pungent burning in her mouth. The feeling slowly slid down her throat and filled her belly with pleasant warmth. When she opened her eyes and turned them back across the bar, Loki was standing from his seat and adjusting the suit coat on his tall frame. He slowly stalked around the bar, like a cat sizing up his prey. A large smile twisted his lips up as he stopped in front of them.

"Ladies," he said. "I'm glad you found your way into my club tonight."

"Your club?" Charlie asked. "I thought you focused your attention on high end resorts."

Loki grinned. "I see you've done some research yourself."

Charlie pursed her lips. "No, your brother told me this morning when we went for breakfast."

Evie saw the momentary flash of annoyance in his eyes when Donald was mentioned, and noted it. It was clear there was not much love lost between the stepbrothers, but she had not expected the malice to pass his face just then.

His previous easy demeanor returned quickly and he smiled. "My business interests are far reaching and varied, Dr. Babcock. However, this club is a relic left to me by my stepfather, Donald's father."

"Why would he give it to you?" Evie asked. Apparently the tequila had taken immediate effect and loosened her tongue. She hadn't meant to be so blunt about it.

"There was a falling out when Donald decided to go to med school instead of taking the family business," Charlie filled in for her.

Evie nodded. "But it's Laufeyson Developments…"

"My own company," he said. "Dear old Dad still owns the parent company, which will still be left to Donald when and if he ever retires."

Well, that explained the bad blood.

"But I didn't come over to discuss business," he replied. "I merely came to welcome two beautiful ladies to my lair."

Evie laughed as she sipped her fruity rum drink. He turned two dark eyes on her and a brow rose curiously. "Does that ever work?"

"I don't know, you tell me," he replied.

The more and more she spoke to him, the more she realized he was just like every other man who'd hurt her in past romantic relationships. They all talked quite a big game, but they never had to goods to back it up. As soon as a pretty new play toy crossed their path, they hightailed it in the other direction.

"No," she replied.

He chuckled, undaunted. "Are we still on for Friday evening, then?"

"Yes." Had she really just confirmed it?

"Good," he said. "My assistant will call you tomorrow with final details. Frank?"

The bartender, just in earshot, turned to them. "Yes, sir?"

"Please make sure to keep them topped up," he replied. "Drinks are on the house tonight, ladies. Have a lovely evening."

With that, he bowed away and headed back around the bar in the path the blonde had taken a few minutes ago. Evie sighed heavily and considered her nearly empty drink. It had gone down way too easily, but her brain didn't feel fuzzy. Maybe it was in her feet. She looked at Charlie, who seemed to be in the same predicament.

"Let's finish and move on," Charlie said. "The level of sleaze in here is unbearable."

Evie snorted. "I agree."

Her friend laughed and turned to the bar. "I'm proud of you, Evie."

"I told you," she said. "He may be attractive and intelligent and wealthy, but even _I_ am turned off by the smarm. It's like Smith 2.0."

"Oh, the things Don mentioned last night," Charlie said. "Remind me to tell you about them tomorrow when we have crawled out of the haze."

Evie chuckled. "If I remember to."

Charlie motioned to the bartender. "Hey, you got a pen?"

Friendly Frank handed her a pen from his apron. Charlie thanked him, grabbed the small cocktail napkin beneath her drink and wrote "Ask Charlie about Thor and Loki."

"That's so vague." Her friend folded the napkin once and reached over, slipping it just under Evie's bra.

Evie frowned. "Why'd you do that?"

"So you won't lose it," Charlie said.

"My purse will do."

Charlie shook her head and bit her lip. "Well, since you've vowed not to take your bra off for anyone, it will be close to you all night until you get home. I've seen what a mess your purse is."

Evie raised her drink. "Touché. Now, let's finish and get out of here."

* * *

Steve sighed into his beer for what seemed the billionth time that night, unable to make himself feel any better about the conversation he'd overhead earlier and the resulting paradigm shift courtesy of a view of the world from another's perspective. Even Blake's company and Clint and Natasha's playful squabbles over work couldn't take his mind off of it.

Blake bit into one of the peanut shells he'd pulled from the bowl in front of him, pealing the shell off and popping the nuts into his mouth. He was engrossed with the soccer game playing on the flat screen over the bar, and only when it went to commercial did he turn back to him.

"What's going on, man?" Blake asked. "You've been more quiet than usual tonight."

Steve chuckled. "Just thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself," his friend remarked. "It sounded like you had things to discuss when you called earlier."

He shrugged.

Blake rolled his eyes and clapped him on the shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something, but paused and lifted his head, turning to look at the entrance to the bar. The door opened and two laughing female voices trickled into the relatively sedate location. Despite the few regulars, there weren't many others who stopped in during the week. Steve was instantly aware of the change in the energy in the room, and that the noise had drawn the attention to the front door and the women there.

"There's a walking wet dream," Blake mentioned.

Steve frowned and turned, just as he realized the voices included one British accent and another muddled one. Had he waited and truly listened, he would have known who was at the door, and he wouldn't have turned around. But he had turned, and he regretted it the instant his eyes fell on the pair looking around the bar—not because he didn't want to see Evie. Though he would admit he had come here to get away from thoughts of her, it was more due to the fact that he had not mentally prepared himself for what he would find after a comment like that from his friend.

Neither woman wore clothes that were vulgar or in poor taste, but they certainly stuck out like sore thumbs in a place like this. Evie wore a dark green dress that could only be loosely defined as such—it fit more like a glove on her reasonably statuesque frame. The hem sat high on smooth, amazing thighs cultivated from years of equestrian sports and fit snugly across her rear. It showed no more than that with a high neck and long sleeves. It should have been plain and boring to him; it was everything but those things.

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his seat and turned away as soon as he felt the relatively foreign tingle of attraction spark in him. He clenched a hand around the beer in front of him and took a long swig—both to fortify his nerves and to attempt to draw away that image in his head—but it was near fruitless until an image of Peggy in a red dress danced across his mind.

Peggy would have never worn something like that into a public setting. Of course, he had to remember, most of their time together was spent on official duties—hardly the setting for revealing clothing. She always seemed to be in uniform or in business attire. The one time he could remember her in anything else was for a reception at the White House, where she'd worn an amazing red dress that had taken his breath away, and had probably made the rest of the male partygoers jealous. Even then, the dress had been demure because of the decorum required for a visit at the White House.

Had he ever been around when she'd gone on a pub-crawl with her friends, would she have worn something like this? Probably not. Peggy was of the stuffy, proper British order… a gentleman's daughter who had been raised in the staid London social scene. Evie and Charlie clearly were not of the same ilk.

Perhaps what made him the most uncomfortable was the fact that he enjoyed what Evie was wearing. She was so utterly different from Peggy, and yet similar in many ways. He was ashamed to admit he much preferred Evie's physical liberalism much more than Peggy's primness. Despite the fact that he had never questioned his attraction to Peggy, and she to him, it had always been channeled into "proper" avenues. The tingle seeing Evie had induced was anything _but_ proper. While he certainly wasn't going to be doing anything reckless, he liked the fact that Evie was so open to everyone. She wore her emotions on her sleeve. It was refreshing in a way he had not realized he would ever find attractive.

With the loud thoughts in his head, he had not heard them coming in their direction, but he felt the heat of another body near him.

"Fancy finding you here," Evie said. Her voice was only slightly slurred, but it was evident she and Charlie were already well into a night of drinking.

He turned to look at her, realizing that she was standing too close for comfort and that the light flowery perfume on her skin was just as intoxicating as the beer in front of him. She swung a leg up to perch on the edge of the bar stool Blake had vacated. Beside her, Charlie had slid onto her own bar stool. Blake had one of his hands possessively wrapped around the brunette Brit and kissed her before sitting down.

Clint was an attentive bartender and appeared in front of them to take the girls' orders. "What about you, Evie?" he asked as he grabbed a pint glass from a shelf and filled it with Guinness for Charlie.

"Um…" She glanced at the shelves of liquor behind him and pursed her lips. Clearly she was not in the decision making frame of mind.

Charlie laughed. "Something fruity and rummy. She'll be your best friend all night."

Clint laughed and offered his hand to Charlie. "Clint Barton."

"Charlie," she replied.

"I know." Clint grabbed a shaker and began filling it with various juices and liquors. "Blake hasn't shut up about you all night."

Charlie barked with laughter.

"I have not said one thing," Blake defended himself. "I've been watching the match on the television."

Clint said nothing and returned to his task. He placed a colorful drink on a napkin in front of Evie, and she eyed it with trepidation.

"What is it?" Steve asked as Clint left to take care of something else.

Evie sighed and reached for the drink. "Nothing."

Steve knew he wasn't going to get anything more out of her. "Where have you been tonight?"

"We started at Laufeyson's club," Evie replied. "Though we didn't know it was his."

Charlie heard her mention the name. "He's a pretentious little bugger."

"You have no idea," Blake said. "But he's still my brother."

"He's terrible!" Charlie gesticulated with her hands in an uncoordinated fashion. "Does he never stop trying to pick girls up?"

Blake frowned. "Did he do something to you?"

"No! To Evie."

"Charlie… we really don't need to discuss it," Evie replied. "It's neither here nor there."

Charlie huffed. "I think we do. If anyone can stop it, it would be one of these two guys."

Steve sat back in his seat. Though the feeling now in his belly was one of annoyance and rejection, he refused to intercede on this issue between Laufeyson and Evie. It was Evie's right to do what she wanted. He didn't like it one bit, but if Laufeyson wasn't bothering her or pushing her into anything she didn't want, who was he to stop him?

"Really, no biggie," she said, placing her hand on his arm. She seemed to have noticed the charge pass through the touch and jerked her hand away. Evie busied herself with swirling her drink around with a straw, but grew tired of it. She sighed and moved off the stool. "I'll be right back. I'm going to go get some air."

Steve reached out to stop her, but she moved quickly even for being wobbly on alcohol-loosened legs. He watched her escape out the back door, leaving a trail of curious onlookers in her wake. Rather than letting her be for a while like he had a few days prior, he sighed and stood up. She was his responsibility and he knew she'd had too much to drink to effectively fight anyone off if there were anyone out there who wished her harm.

No one said anything as he followed her path outside. He found her easily, her back resting against a wall, head back on the brick as she looked up at the clear night sky. She straightened up as soon as the door closed.

"I'm fine, Steve," she said quietly when she glanced at him. "It just got warm and I'm tired of all this Laufeyson crap."

"Then just tell him no," he offered.

Evie looked at him with irritation in her expression. "I have told him no. And I will continue to tell him no."

"So you're not selling the ranch?"

His moment of relief was quickly dashed.

"I haven't decided," she said. "I just mean… I told him 'no' about anything he has his mind set on with me personally. I think he thinks that wining and dining me will make the decision about the ranch easier on me."

"Oh."

The utterance sounded so stupid to him, and yet it had come out of his mouth. A new sort of relief settled over him. A relief he did not expect. Why was he so concerned about her love life?

"I'm sorry, Steve. I'm just going through some things right now," she said with a sigh. "I didn't mean to worry you. You can go back to your beer. Just give me a few."

When he did not move, she gave him a funny look.

"I mean it," she said. "Why are you still out here?"

"Because I want to be out here with you."

She stepped closer to him, wobbling a bit on unsteady feet. Evie sighed, her eyes misty. "Why are you so good? Even when I'm a bitch, you say stuff like that."

"Am I?" he asked. "I'm just being me."

"Why can't all men be like you? Maybe I just attract the wrong type of guy. Maybe I'll never attract someone like you."

He didn't reply, but only to keep from incriminating himself. She _had_ attracted someone like him. But was he ready to admit that to her face, or for that matter, to voice it to the world? Somehow it still felt wrong to do confirm his own feelings right now.

She wobbled again and he reached out to steady her with hands on her upper arms. Evie froze and looked up at him. It was what happened next that threw him completely off guard and off balance. She hastily wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down forcefully—though he would admit that he let her do it. If he hadn't wanted it, she wouldn't have been able to muster enough strength in her current state to move him.

But she had moved him in more ways than purely physical. Her warm, soft and demanding lips were suddenly on his, flaming a fire deep within him. She tasted of pineapple and rum, sweet but tart. Perfect. His body, surprised and reluctant at first, quickly relaxed into the sensations that had been dormant for so long. His mind wanted to push her away. It wasn't ready for this overload. The body refused to listen.

Just as he had made up his mind to give into the moment and gather her completely in his arms, returning her kiss, she made a sound deep in her throat. It was a sound of anguish. Her body went rigid and she quickly pushed at his chest. He had no choice but to release her. Hands clasped over her mouth and her body jerked once… twice… and then she doubled over at the waist.

Steve didn't want to look down once she had finished heaving. Of all the worst possible things to happen at a moment like this, Steve couldn't think of anything this bad. Evie slowly straightened, her face ashen and clammy.

"Oh, god." Her hands clapped over her mouth again.

He glanced down then, expecting the worst, but noticed that she had missed his boots by an infinitesimal fraction. It was a small miracle. "I think it's time we get you home."

"But Charlie…"

"I'm sure Blake will take care of her."

Evie nodded feebly and stepped away from the scene of the crime. He'd call Blake once he got Evie safely to his truck. Then he would take her home and try to forget about the disaster that the last few minutes had been for him.

But most of all, so he would desperately try to forget how good it felt to have a woman pressed against him for that very brief moment. Once she was sober, there was no telling what was going to happen between them, and he didn't want to hope for more only to be hurt again.


	14. Chapter 13

_Dear friends: Again, I'm so sorry for the wait! The last few weeks haven't been as relaxing as I imagined they would be. But stick with me... updates will be a little slow. Life loves to throw us lemons. _

_Also, a warning that the story will become more adult oriented the further we go. I changed the rating to Mature awhile back to reflect this, but just thought I'd let you know._

_Many, many, many thanks to the readers AND reviewers for the last chapter. _

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 13**

The instant Evie woke up the following morning, she regretted it. Besides feeling like a heavy weight was lying on her chest and pinning her to the bed, a dull headache throbbed over her eyes. The mascara remaining on her eyelashes crunched as she rubbed her eyes. She blinked to clear her sight, but it took a few minutes for the plain white ceiling to focus above her. As she lay staring up at the boring paint job, the night's events replayed in her mind. Hazy, distorted and fractured, she knew it was useless trying to remember. The amount of alcohol she had poured down her throat in the span of a few hours would make it impossible to piece them together.

She sighed and sat up in bed, looking around the darkened room. Someone had closed the blinds to block out most of the sun, though it wouldn't have mattered. The halo that formed around the edge of the closed blinds was too much for her headache. Still, as far as hangovers went, though her body was stiff and not altogether cooperative, she had fared rather well. The headache was the only lasting remnant of the night, and she'd ended up at home in her own bed with no one sleeping beside her. Despite this, she hadn't been cognizant enough to change into a sleep shirt before crawling under the covers, which meant someone had probably poured her here and left her there to sleep it off.

With a sigh, she crawled from the bed and began undressing, peeling the dress off and throwing it in the corner of the room, hoping to never have to wear it again. The smell of bars and cigarette smoke filled her nose and she cringed. She needed a shower desperately. The white thing poking out of the edge of her bra caught her attention as she vaguely remembered Charlie sticking it there. The scribbled message made her frown when she recalled what had prompted it. What did Charlie know about the brotherly relationship between Donald and Loki that would factor into this whole ordeal? Thinking about it only made her head ache worse, so she tossed the paper into the rubbish bin and went about getting cleaned up.

After a long, hot shower and brushing her teeth, she felt much more human. The stinging water spray had massaged her headache and body back into an operational state. She pulled on a big sweater and stretchy pants—the least restrictive she owned—and made her way downstairs. Halfway down the stairs, the first scent of food reached her nose and made her stomach rumble for sustenance. She continued into the kitchen, fully expecting to find Charlie. Who she did find made her come up short and freeze in the doorway.

"Steve? What are you doing?"

He looked up from turning over a strip of bacon in a cast iron skillet, his short hair falling across his forehead from the sudden movement. A slight blush reddened his cheeks, but he smiled. "Making breakfast."

"I can see that," she said. "But _why_ are you making breakfast?"

"I imagine you're not feeling very well after last night," he said. "A full breakfast always helps me. Do you have anything against bacon?"

"No."

Evie frowned and considered him in the following silence. "I can't imagine you ever getting as drunk as I was last night."

He chuckled lowly. "It's happened before. I'm not perfect."

She dropped heavily into one of the kitchen table chairs, crossed her arms on the table and laid her head on them. "Were you the one to bring me home?"

Steve looked at her seriously for a moment. There was something in his eyes that seemed hurt. Sad, almost. He squared his shoulders and blinked, turning from her to tend to the food cooking on the stove. "Yeah, I was."

"Thanks. I don't remember much after Loki's club last night," she said. "I didn't do anything bad, did I?"

"I don't know what you did before you wound up at the Bird Cage," he said.

Evie sighed. His comment did not allow her to relax. If she were to judge from his tone of voice, something _had_ happened. And it was something major. Maybe Charlie would remember. She always held her liquor better.

"Where's Charlie?"

"She went home with Donald," he replied. "But she should be here any minute. Donald had to drop her off at your truck to drive back. He's on duty today."

"Ah. Why aren't you working?"

"I've already been out and back. Not much pressing work now that the cows are in their pastures or shipped off," he said. "Not until tomorrow and we start setting up for the festival."

He turned one of the burners off and plated two over medium eggs, some bacon and two pieces of toast. After he set the plate in front of her, he grabbed a glass of orange juice and another with water from the refrigerator. He placed both glasses in front of her and then walked over to the coffee maker where he poured himself a mug.

"I need coffee, too," she said.

He shook his head. "Drink the OJ and water. The caffeine will only make it worse."

She frowned. "You don't seem to understand. I can't function without coffee or tea."

"You can have some later," he replied.

"You're cruel."

"No, I'm not. I just know what I'm talking about."

He leaned back against the counter, crossing one long, muscled leg over the other as he sipped his coffee and watched her pick at the food on her plate. It was difficult, though, to pay attention to the admittedly tasty meal in front of her with his dominant presence in the room. His humble yet confident demeanor was completely alluring. The fact that he didn't recognize the appeal made him even sexier, especially standing there like that.

And good lord, did he look good in a pair of well-fitting Levis and a button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Her fingers itched to undo the belt buckle on his waist.

It was futile to keep telling herself she didn't want to do dirty, nasty things to him. Because she did— and not just once, either. She was almost certain those hands—those big, long fingered, strong hands—knew a thing or two about pleasing a woman. And she just _knew_ those perfectly bowed lips had the potential to set her on fire no matter where they might land on her body.

The thought caused her to gasp mid-drink and resulted in the acidic juice traveling down the wrong pipe. She spluttered and coughed, patting her chest. He straightened up and looked at her for signs of distress. She held up a hand to stop him.

"I'm fine," she gasped and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. "Swallowed wrong."

Silence fell between them instantly and Evie did everything she could to focus her attention on her eggs—and only the eggs. She had to get over this physical attraction. The man in question wouldn't think twice about her beyond a lost, lonely pup who required care simply because she seemingly couldn't take care of herself.

The thought sobered her quickly, more than anything else could. She sighed and set her fork down, pushing her plate back. "Breakfast was great. Thank you."

He smiled. "My pleasure."

"You didn't have to do it."

"No, I didn't," he replied. "But I wanted to do it."

She got up from her seat and took the dishes to the sink. He shifted aside so she could do it, but did not move away, blocking the coffee pot. "May I please have some coffee now?"

"If I said no?" he asked.

"I'd fight you for it."

He smirked and set his mug down, taking a step closer to her. His arms crossed over his chest as he stood at his full, impressive height. "I'd win."

Evie was unable to control the blush that inflamed her cheeks, but she was unable to turn away to hide it. Honestly, she didn't even know why she'd had that reaction. She wasn't the blushing type. Yet, the electricity of his sudden presence so close to her and the warmth of his body made her stomach do a funny little flop. The voice in her head told her to take a step back—to move—to get out of the situation. It began to scream as he drifted closer at an agonizingly slow pace. Every fiber of her being wanted him to continue on this course, but she knew better than that. She'd made a promise to herself, and Steve Rogers was the last person on the face of the planet who would ever be interested in her.

The confusion between body and mind paralyzed her so all she could do was watch him. Her body needed him to kiss her, but her mind yelled to apply the brakes. As amazing and handsome and… and sweet… as he was, she couldn't do this. She didn't want to be the rebound girl. She didn't want to be compared to Peggy. From what she'd heard the other night, she'd be found incredibly lacking in every area. Evie knew, deep down, that any woman to be worthy of Steve Roger's attention had to be incredibly special.

She was saved by the front door opening and slamming shut. The sound pulled her out of the trance he'd initiated by staring her down with those dangerous blue eyes, and she stepped away quickly, trying to focus on something other than his lips as Charlie came into the room.

"What smells so amazing?"

"Breakfast." Evie pointed to the stove.

"Do you want some? There's more eggs…" Steve said, pointing a thumb at the refrigerator.

"_You_ made breakfast?" Charlie's incredulousness was not missed as her eyes darted between them. "Wait… did you… did you spend the night?"

"No! Of course not," Evie said. The denial came out perhaps a little too emphatically, making it sound as though she considered the notion detestable. God, it was the _least_ the detestable thing she'd ever considered, but he didn't hear that, and she didn't know how to save herself. Steve bristled and the edges of his ears reddened, making her pause and consider his reaction. She didn't know if he'd spent the night. "Wait… did you?"

Steve sighed heavily. "No, I left after I brought you back and made sure you got upstairs. Anyway… I should probably head out to work."

The only men she had ever seen make a faster getaway were the men who tried to sneak out in the morning so they wouldn't have to face her in an awkward morning after scenario. At least it was somewhat of a relief that Steve didn't actually consider her to be worthy of spending the night. Bashful though he was, he clearly wasn't into her. But then what had all that posturing been a few minutes ago? He'd been about to kiss her, hadn't he?

Evie huffed. "You know, you really do know how to make an entrance."

"How was I supposed to know what I was walking into?" she said. "I could literally cut the tension in here with a knife it was so thick."

"Was it?" Evie busied herself with collecting dishes to clean.

Charlie scoffed. "You know it was."

Evie shrugged.

"I can't believe you're even standing, much less eating, really," Charlie remarked. "I didn't think you and Steve were coming home to have hot drunk sex. He practically carried you to his truck, from what Donald told me."

"I don't remember what happened last night," Evie replied.

"All I know is that you were sick and Steve brought you home."

"You didn't see me get sick?"

"No, I imagine that's why you ran out back for fresh air."

Evie nodded. She remembered that. Somewhat. It was the reason why she didn't feel completely dead this morning—most of the alcohol had left her system when she'd become ill.

"So… I found the note you left me about Thor and Loki."

"Oh, yeah, that's right!" Charlie said with a chuckle.

"So? What do I need to know?"

Charlie shrugged. "Just that, as I'm sure you can guess, Donald was the golden boy between the stepbrothers. Loki was always the brains of the operation, and Donald the brawn. Donald says both of them received the same treatment and opportunity growing up, but their father approved more of Donald's personality and traits over Loki's more introspective qualities. Loki has always felt like he was treated as less of a person and son because he wasn't blood related. Loki hates that Donald gets everything without trying… and it's transferred into their adult lives. Loki started his own company in hopes of some day being richer than his stepfather and taking over the family business. Unfortunately, he made some really poor business decisions with the wrong sorts of people early on in his career. Their father got him out of the mess by buying Laufeyson Developments, allowing Loki to stay on as CEO of that brand, but only if he understood he would never take over for him. Instead, he is leaving everything to Donald when he retires. Loki now wants to amass enough capital that he can buy Donald out when their father leaves."

"He wants the keys to the kingdom and Donald won't let him have it," Evie summarized.

"Donald told me he could care less what happens with his inheritance," Charlie said. "But he doesn't want to see everything his father worked so hard for go to waste when Loki takes the company, breaks it up, sells it, sends jobs overseas, you know the whole thing. Loki's idea is hip, new, replace all the old. It would destroy the legacy."

Evie nodded. "Then why the hell does he want some godforsaken piece of land out here?"

"Loki was banished to the Southwest region after a huge deal of his went bad with some shady company in Sweden," Charlie explained. "So he's trying to make hay while the sun is shining and get back into his stepfather's good graces."

Evie huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. It certainly explained a few things about the whole relationship dynamic, but it didn't do much else. "That doesn't really answer anything. They hate each other. Loki can't be trusted. What part of this news is supposed to surprise me?"

"I just thought, as a scientist, you'd like to know the whole story and not fragments," Charlie replied. "It will better inform your decisions and conclusions."

"So this is really about the whole meeting him Phoenix to discuss his business proposal thing. You don't want me to leave so you have an excuse to stay" Evie chuckled and shook her head. Clearly, Charlie was already well enamored of the ranch life _and_ of her own personal Thor doppelganger.

"I don't think you should go. Your willpower… it still isn't there."

Evie held her hand up to stop Charlie's words. "As a scientist, it's only right to investigate all possibilities before declaring one hypothesis null. I'm going to Phoenix. I'm going to let him do whatever song and dance he has planned. It doesn't mean I'm going to accept it, nor does it mean I won't. I haven't even gone through all of Dad's business stuff. If Loki's offer is the best course, then I'll go with it… even if it means he's one step closer to pissing off his brother."

Charlie was clearly unhappy with this pronouncement judging by the expression of disgust on her face. "You mean to tell me you haven't at least fallen a little in love with the quaintness of this town?"

"What you really mean is… haven't I fallen in love with Steve?"

"I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did."

"No… _you_ did," Charlie said.

"I'm not in love with Steve. Even if I had any romantic inclination toward the man, he's completely closed off and it doesn't matter."

Charlie shrugged. "I have it on good authority that he might be changing his mind."

"It doesn't matter!" Evie replied. "Aren't you supposed to be supporting me in my attempt to stay _out_ of a relationship?"

"I could turn a blind eye to this one."

Evie suddenly felt exasperated by her annoying, though well meaning, friend and moved toward the door out into the living room. She paused, glancing back. "You know what? Even if he made a move and I went along with it, _and_ I didn't sell the ranch… you're forgetting something really important."

"That is?"

"My career… the lot of my research is in England. My whole life is. I don't see a whole hell of a lot of stone circles in Prescott, Arizona."

"Just because they haven't found any yet doesn't mean they aren't waiting to be discovered," Charlie said.

Evie rolled her eyes.

"Evie, let's be honest here," Charlie said. Her voice was suddenly low and serious. "There's nothing left for you in England, especially not with Oxford, not with any of those circles. Even as I was leaving, the rumors about you and Smith were flying around. If Smith had his say, you'd be laughed right out of academia."

Charlie's words stung her to the core, but they were true. Evie knew the risk she was taking getting into a relationship with her married mentor. She knew what could happen. And still she'd done it. She'd followed her compulsive need for attachment into a relationship that had likely ruined whatever tenuous credibility she'd had in an old-boys club like history and archaeology.

Realistically, Evie knew what her friend had said was true. She just hadn't made herself believe it yet. She thought if she kept saying she was only going to be out here for a few weeks then it might actually come true. That maybe she'd finish up here, go back home, things would have blown over and she could go on with her life. It didn't appear that anything like that would ever happen.

"I think you really should consider your options out here," Charlie said. "If they don't involve a stand up guy like Steve, then so be it… but maybe this is the fresh start you need. Maybe… maybe your father passing away was a blessing in disguise."

Evie snorted derisively. "I don't want to talk about it. I'm going to the office to start looking through my dad's business stuff so I can be prepared for tomorrow."

"Whatever. I'm going to get cleaned up and then I'm meeting Natasha for lunch."

Evie opened her mouth to ask why Natasha was suddenly buddy-buddy with Charlie—the woman had barely said five words to her since they'd met a week ago. Instead, she closed her lips and shook her head. If Charlie wanted to go out with Natasha, she could, despite the fact that it made her uncomfortable.

"Have fun," Evie said as she left the kitchen and went back to her father's office.


	15. Chapter 14

_A/N: My sincerest apologies for not updating on this for quite some time. In addition to a grueling semester (with tons of writing), I completed a move cross country. Enjoy this chapter. Also, my many and continued thanks to everyone reading and/or reviewing. I know this story is a little different from the rest, but I'm glad you like it enough to read this far! :)_

**Chapter 14**

Steve did everything in his power to put as much distance between himself and the house, finding that place to be on the back of his horse out in the furthest northern reach of the ranch's land checking fence. He knew this section of fence was completely repaired, but it was the only thing that had come to his mind as a suitable excuse for getting away from Evie. Staying in the house and doing some of the progress reports along with accounting that direly needed attention was out of the question. If he had to spend any more time with her he was going to do something he deeply regretted, not matter how much his body was telling him to go through with it.

After last night, that's all it'd been telling him, even though she'd become ill right after kissing him. Any other person who had been through that probably would have been completely turned off; he found himself neither turned off nor turned on, but his mind had fixated on the action before it. That kiss, though sloppy and drunk and awkward, had sent a message loud and clear to every reach of his body, from toe to head, fingertip to fingertip. It had thrown his world for a loop, spun it around, shook it up and made him realize that he had to stop living like a monk. Eleven years was a long time to remain celibate, no matter how much he still found himself wrapped up in everything Peggy.

He wanted it. No, he _needed_ it. The only problem was that the only person whom he found a remote possibility had kissed him while drunk and apparently didn't remember it. She probably didn't want to remember it, anyway. Lord knew it was probably terrible for her though awakening for him. She was so much worldlier than him; from things she had said it was clear to him she didn't want anything to do with romantic entanglements. Had she wanted to remember the kiss last night, she would have.

And yet… and yet, she hadn't been recoiling from him as he'd tried to convince himself to kiss her again just a little while ago. In fact, she'd been blushing and teasing him. Flirting. God, women never flirted with him. Well, not before Peggy. After being openly linked to Peggy, it seemed like every woman he ran into had wanted a piece of him; he'd ignored it because he knew he had a good thing with her. Peggy certainly wasn't the flirting type. She was all business, all the time. Evie was playful and fun. Even then, he knew there was more beneath the veneer of playfulness. She was a deeply troubled woman who didn't want anything to do with a man at the moment. _Any_ man.

So that kiss had been a mistake. It just had to be. And, being a gentleman, he wasn't going to be the one to bring it up and cause her embarrassment even though he knew he was really protecting himself from it. She didn't want anything to do with him romantically, and he refused to be drawn any further into her web. He could not allow himself to do it. He had a very fragile heart to protect and allowing himself to think she had any romantic notion for him would only end up injuring him in the end.

It was with this fresh resolve that he finally allowed himself to amble back to the barns and the ranch house. The light drizzle that had begun falling a little while ago was also an issue, but he hardly noticed it. It was warm and the earth beneath his feet needed the moisture. After putting the horse away, he checked in with the rest of the crew. Ascertaining that they didn't need him for anything, Steve made his way back to the main house. Despite wanting to stay away from Evie, he _did_ have a lot of work to do that he'd let slide over the last few weeks because of Phil's passing.

However, as he rounded the corner of the front barn, he realized that her truck wasn't there. He breathed an instant sigh of relief knowing he might at least have a little while of peace and quiet to focus on the work. He let himself into the cold, dark house. Just to be sure he was alone, he called for her. "Evie, you here?"

The response was not one that he expected and one that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. From somewhere in the house, Phil's voice was speaking clearly and concisely, explaining something in the no frills kind of way in which Steve had become accustomed. Feeling his gut clench, he moved further into the house in search of the disembodied Phil-voice and found it in the office. Sitting in one of the two tall backed leather office chairs was Evie looking at a picture of Phil on the computer screen. It was only as he grew closer that he realized Evie had somehow curled herself into a ball in the chair, clutching a soft blanket around her. She was awake, but her eyes were glazed over from exhaustion and clearly from sadness. Trails of tears streaked down her blotchy red cheeks.

He opened his mouth to announce his presence, but the mere action made her turn her head to look at him. She sniffled and looked back at the screen as Phil continued.

"Evie, I know I haven't always been the best father. I don't deserve your pity or your love for the amount of time we were parted. It seemed like I didn't care, but I did care for you. I loved you move than life itself, but your mom took you away from me and moved back to Portland. I had no other option; as I'm sure you can see by now, I couldn't just drop everything and follow her. I loved the farm, too, and as a matter of livelihood, there was no way to leave it," video Phil explained. "It was a sacrifice that I had to make for everyone involved. Without going this road, I wouldn't have been able to give you the best life possible. Your mother had opportunities for you… taking you traveling and on tours and seeing the world—that was what I gave you by letting your mother take you. It wouldn't have been right of me to keep you here to stagnate. Because you would have. You were adventurous like your mother. You always wanted to learn. To experience. You couldn't be pinned down in a place like Prescott. I knew all I could do was allow you to do it. My job was to make sure the ranch ran smoothly so that I could take care of you once you were an adult. Granted, I hadn't planned on having to talk to you about inheritance this soon, but we take what we're given and make the best out of it."

Video Phil smirked in his trademark self-deprecating way. Steve shifted in his boots uncomfortably, trying to come up with a way to extricate himself from this mess. It was uncomfortable listening to Phil pour his heart out to his daughter. Worse yet, the woman in which he found an undeniable need to protect needed him. He was torn between leaving the room again and gathering her in his arms to provide the comfort she clearly needed. It wasn't right for him to be standing here and listening to this.

As he turned to leave, a hand shot out from beside him and clenched around his hand.

"I just want to close out this recording by saying that I loved your mother. There was a passion there that burned both of us because we were so different," he said. "But most of all, I loved you. I still love you. I will _always_ love you, even though I'm not around. This video and the others are no substitute for what I've neglected, but I just wanted to let you know that. My only wish—"

There were tears in Phil's eyes now as he stopped for a very long pause, swallowing around the emotion welling inside him.

"My only wish…" he blew out a breath, "is that I had more time to be with you. To get to know you. To teach you some things, though you made it inherently clear on your last visit before you started university that there was nothing you needed to learn from me."

A watery gurgle of laughter made Steve turn to look at her. It was the same sarcastic laugh Steve had heard from Phil on occasion.

"You have made me the proudest father on the planet with all you've accomplished," Phil said. "I don't want you to feel like you have to throw everything away to come back and take care of the ranch. I know there will be people who will be angry at you if you do decide to sell it and go back to your life in England, but you have my blessing to do with it as you wish. Whatever decision _you_ make is the _right_ one, and that is the most important thing to keep in mind. These videos, I hope, will help you decide and also to make heads or tails out of the business aspect of the ranch when you meet with the attorney and accountant to discuss your options. You can rely on Steve to help you out. He's a good man and knows the ranch. He's also as sharp as a tack. Don't let the down home, awe shucks all American- as-apple-pie thing fool you. He knows his stuff. If you're going to trust anyone here, do me a favor and trust him. At least then I'll know you're in good hands. There isn't one bad bone in his body; he is incapable of being self-serving."

Steve fidgeted. Yes, it was very uncomfortable listening to his pseudo-father saying these things about him even if it was a glowing recommendation. There was a beep in the background of the video from one of Phil's multitudes of medical machinery.

"Time for my afternoon happy meds and nap," Phil replied into the camera. "Elizabeth Victoria, I love you."

The video ended abruptly with that comment and the media player went black, leaving the room silent. That was until Evie let out a strangled sniffle. She sat up and let go of his hand; searching for a tissue and finding none, she used the sleeves of her shirt to wipe at her face.

He watched her do this until she turned to look at him again. "God, you're all wet! Where were you?"

Frowning at her sudden diversion, he looked down at himself. He was definitely on the damp side, but certainly not soaking. "I was out checking fences, but came in to do some work. The truck wasn't here, so I thought I'd have some time…"

She cleared her throat and shook her head. "Charlie took it back to town to have lunch with Natasha."

Steve clenched his jaw. He'd yet to ever get anything by his red-haired friend, and he knew this lunch had to be an information fishing mission. After last night and everything that had happened at the bar, he wasn't surprised she wanted figure out what was going on. Poor Charlie would be caught in the crosshairs.

"My feelings exactly," Evie huffed.

He sighed and pointed to the computer. "How many did you get through?"

"Most of them," she muttered. "I'm as confused as ever. Numbers aren't my thing. I'm going to listen to my father and leave the business up to you. If you need help, or me to sign anything, or approve anything, just let me know."

"Okay." That was a relief off his mind. He'd worried she'd come in and try to change everything, not matter how short a time she was here.

"But," she began, meeting his eyes. Her green ones were red-rimmed from the tears she had shed and it made his chest clench with sorrow. She was clearly very distressed, but like Phil, internalized everything and never discussed her feelings until it became unbearable. There would be no talking to her about what he had just witnessed. "I do need some help. I need some bottom line information… like where we stand on bank accounts and stuff like that. Do I need to ask the accountant that?"

Steve shook his head and went to the file cabinet to find the previous month's accounting book. "This stuff is all in the computer, but we print them out each month as back up. Phil never completely trusted computers."

"Doesn't he have a backup server?" she asked.

Steve chuckled. "Tony set him up with an offsite backup awhile ago."

"Sounds like my father," Evie replied.

He pulled the second chair up beside her and sat down. Flipping to the page in the binder he needed. "As you can see, the accounts are all solvent. We're able to put a little away in savings each month. Not a lot, but compared to other ranches around here, we're doing pretty good."

Evie nodded, but didn't say anything to him. Instead, she clicked her tongue against her teeth.

"On the next page, you can see all of our liabilities," he said.

At this, she took in a sharp breath. "Wow."

"I know it seems like a lot," he said. "We're not exactly cash poor and land rich, but it's close. The problem is Phil mortgaged that last addition of land before the economy tanked and before he was diagnosed with the cancer. There was a lot more growth he planned beyond adding the heads of cattle and horses, but that's what we could do since he wasn't able to put the time into overseeing it."

Evie looked at him seriously, her eyes blinking rapidly a few times before she opened her mouth to speak. "You know what this means?"

Steve nodded his head. Yes, he knew exactly what it meant. It meant there wasn't enough money to pay Phil's debts which would be required of Evie now that he had passed.

"Dad's lawyer explained how this works," she said. "There is a possibility that I could apply for the financing myself, but there's no way they would ever approve me. I haven't owned a thing in my life. I make a pittance working for a university, and even that... I may be out of a job."

The words coming from her lips were about as difficult to hear as it had been to stand and watch Video Phil pour his heart out a few minutes ago. But he had known this sad truth for some time, choosing to ignore it in favor of concentrating on the present. He couldn't be bogged down with worries of the future. Now, however, the future was here staring him in the face.

"There could be a way to equalize everything. Sell off some land, some cattle…" he said. "That is, if you want to keep the ranch."

Evie looked back at the book. "I don't know…"

"Like Phil said, it's up to you," he replied.

She sighed heavily and ran a hand through her hair, tousling it up and gathering it over one shoulder. Besides the extreme emotion she had exhibited while watching the video with him, he could only imagine what was now going through her head. Emotionally, he did know well what she was going through; taking care of his mom's stuff, and assisting with Bucky's and Peggy's when they had passed away, had been difficult enough for him to bear. Settling the business of a huge ranch like this in addition to coming to terms with her personal issues had thoroughly wrung her out.

Some of it was a hangover remaining from the previous evening, but she looked completely fried and ready to do something else.

"Will you do me a favor and go through the ranch and draw up a finite list of current value of our assets with how much you think we could get at market today?" she said. "Include all machinery, animals, everything we own outright."

Steve nodded. "I can do that, but it will take me a few days with the set up of the fall festival."

She smiled wanly. "No problem. Take your time. I'm going down to Phoenix tomorrow to meet with Laufeyson and his people so they can present their offer."

"That's fine," he said.

"Is there any way I can convince you to come down with me?" she asked.

He shook his head. He wanted nothing more than to accompany her for this visit—because he knew Laufeyson's tactics—but his duty was to direct the workers and deliveries coming to the ranch starting tomorrow. "I need to be here for the delivery trucks. It's up to me to manage it."

Evie sat back in her seat, nodding. "I plan to leave in the morning and come back Saturday morning, so I won't be gone forever."

She reached out for the computer mouse and closed the programs. "Do you want me to leave the computer on? You said you were going to work."

Steve shook his head. "No... I'll do it later."

After the computer was shut off, she pushed back and stood up, folding the blanket she'd on her lap.

"So," he said, wanting desperately to break the tension, "how do you feel about getting out of dodge for a bit?"

The question was out of his lips before he could stop himself. He knew he couldn't be alone around her, for fear of giving into temptation. And yet here he was asking her out, because he liked being with her. As uncomfortable as the last little while had been for him, the woman now standing before him made him feel human again. She made him care about something other than his grief. For some reason, it was easier to concentrate on her than it was to deal with his own overactive mind.

Evie had perked up at his suggestion, though. "What did you have in mind?"

"Normally, I'd say let's go riding, but it is raining," he replied. "How far did you get into the valley yesterday?"

She frowned. "Not far, just the mall."

"Did you see the big nickel arcade?" he asked.

"No," she chuckled and asked dubiously, "An arcade? You go there often?"

"Nope. But I've always wanted to check it out."

Evie laughed again and shook her head. "Let's get the hell out of here, then. Just promise me you won't let any alcohol pass my lips."

"I won't. Nothing but good, clean fun," he said.

"Give me a few to change clothes and I'll meet you outside in a half hour?"

He nodded his concession and turned to leave.

"And Steve?" she asked.

He glanced back at her. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

With warmth spreading across his own face, he left the house to go get cleaned up himself.


	16. Chapter 15

_A/N: Merry Christmas, all! Even if you don't celebrate, happy holidays! Thanks for all the support and enjoy this chapter!_

**Chapter 15**

Evie groaned as she lost yet another round of the arcade game in front of her, angrily dipping into her pocket for more change. She slipped the quarter into the machine and waited for the game to boot back up as the little aliens began their annoying little dance across the screen. "Die you vile little suckers," she muttered to herself as they descended lower and lower. A space ship flew across the top of the screen and she moved out from under a blockade to shoot at it, narrowly missing the shot from one of the aliens. However, the joystick over corrected and she was taken down on the other side of the blockade.

"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed. Glancing around when she heard a disgusted scoff, she noticed a mother standing nearby give her a dirty look. Evie pursed her lips and turned back to the screen, but paused when she saw Steve's reflection in the glass as he stepped up behind her. "Where did you go?"

"Food," he mentioned, holding up a large paper bowl with a hot dog inside it smothered in what looked to be chili.

"My god, it smells," she replied. "What's on it?"

"It's a Coney dog," he said. "You haven't ever had one?"

"Uh, no. And I don't intend to start from the smell of it."

He shook his head and laughed. "It reminds me of home. When were kids, Bucky and I would always get them when we went to Coney Island."

"So you're originally from New York?" she asked, turning back to the screen and putting another quarter in.

"Yep," he replied. He took another bite of food and swallowed it. The game fired up then, but she knew she'd lose it before she even started. "Your technique is all wrong."

"There's a technique?" she asked. "I thought it was just try to kill all the aliens as fast as possible, in any way possible."

Steve finished his food quickly and threw his rubbish in the bin near them. With an exaggerated rubbing of his hands, he looked at her. "May I show you?"

Evie was tempted to tell him to get the hell away, but stopped herself. As angry as playing games like this made her when she lost, this afternoon had been a marvelous diversion and she didn't want to ruin it. It was, hands down, the most fun she'd had in a very, _very_ long time. Who knew that this was what she needed after all? Even _if_ the nickel arcade was a quarter or more a game, this afternoon would go down in her memory as one of the best ever.

"Fine!" She sighed exasperatedly and moved out of the way, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping a shoe as he found a quarter for the game in his own pockets.

"Nuh uh," he said. He grasped her arm and pulled her in front of him. "I'm going to teach you how to kill them. It's a life skill everyone should have. You never know when the planet's going to be invaded."

"I ascribe more to the zombie theory, myself," Evie replied.

"Same theory," he replied. "Unless they're shuffling zombies, then you should be able to outrun them."

Evie couldn't contain her laughter, but sobered uncomfortably as she felt the heat of his body press against her back and his arms encircle her from behind. Sure, it was all fun and games until someone decided to get touchy-feely. Of course Steve Rogers was probably the last man on the face of the planet to want to feel her up. Even knowing that, this closeness did nothing for her nerves, especially after this morning's near kiss. It had taken ever fiber of her being to resist the urge to fall into his arms. Lord knew she wanted to, but she couldn't do that to him. She was just… so fucked up. And honestly, he wasn't any better if he was still pining away for a woman who had been dead for eleven years.

However, as he shifted closer and she felt the solidness of his muscles so easily through their clothing, it was hard to believe that she could withstand the oath she had made for herself. The men… the very academic, very smarmy men... she had dated in her past were all of one type. They did not feel like this. Most of them probably would have balked at physical labor. None of them were the dashing, physical Indiana Jones adventure type that most young female archaeology students wished to find. Steve wasn't particularly academic, but he certainly was an adventurer. One who had an amazing body and a heart of gold to match the shiny, well formed exterior.

The image of him splitting wood a few days ago made her body shudder. His hands rested on her upper arms in a completely chaste area as he cleared his throat. "Are you, uh, okay?"

"Just a shiver," she replied.

His response—oh, his blissful response—was to shift in closer, rest his large hands over hers and pin her hips against the game console so he could get a close enough angle to see the game screen. Shiver or not, a very definite heated flush snaked its way from the pit of her belly and up, rising on her skin. She was thankful that Steve was concentrating on the screen, but she wondered if he sensed her tension or the sudden shallowness of her breathing. He did not seem to, and as a matter of fact increased the pressure of his hips against hers as he became more involved with the game. She wasn't remotely involved in the game play, allowing his arms and hands to guide her own.

And for all his playful arrogance about beating the game, they still lost. Perhaps, neither one of them were paying much attention to the game after all. Steve wouldn't be confident or cocky about something he wasn't sure he could win; that he didn't win meant more than he was willing to voice.

"I thought you said you could beat it," she remarked softly as the game over song played.

"I can," he replied. "Maybe I'm rusty at it. It's been years."

Evie giggled. "Maybe you'd do better without me."

Steve chuckled in a way that told her he knew what she meant. "No, not necessarily. I just have to get used to you standing there."

"Always the gentleman," she remarked with a sigh. "My money's pretty much depleted for now... do you want to head out?"

"How about dinner?" he asked.

"Didn't you just eat?"

He shrugged. "Fast metabolism."

"Fast metabolism," she mimicked in a sarcastic voice. "I hate people who say that."

"Why? It's true," he said.

Evie laughed. "Alright… where do you want to go?"

"Pizza?"

"Not here, right?" The pieces of pizza she'd seen a group of kids eating earlier had appeared to be laden in orange grease. It didn't settle well in her stomach.

"Nope. Come on." He grabbed a hold of her hand and pulled her toward the door. It was only once outside that he seemed to notice what he'd done.

Evie felt his hold ease up and she glanced quickly at their hands, then at his face. She was relieved that he didn't appear horrified, but it was certainly a surprise for him. After a moment of indecision on his part, Steve merely sighed and grasped her hand more securely. He took her across the street to the row of restaurants and shops where they went into a small restaurant decked out in an Italian flag motif.

Still, it was homey all done in a stone and log-cabin feeling. The hostess placed them at a table by the fire, for which Evie was grateful. She'd felt cold all day. And besides that, if she were to blush at some point over dinner, she could blame it on the heat of the flame.

Steve made a point of pulling her chair out and holding it until she sat. He then settled into his own seat and got comfortable.

"I still can't believe you're hungry after that," she remarked.

"I really do have a hollow leg," he replied. "Or at least that's what my mother called it."

"But you said you were a ninety pound weakling the other night."

Steve laughed. "I was a teenage boy."

"So you were." She concentrated on her menu until the waitress came over.

The waitress was a pretty girl and instantly zeroed in on Steve. "Oh, Mr. Rog—er, Steve, it's so good to see you."

"Bonnie, right?" he asked.

She nodded her head with an enthusiasm that made Evie chuckle under her breath. The girl was completely into the man, despite the fact the very clear age difference. Of course, Evie questioned herself, who wouldn't be? Despite his emotional unavailability, any woman between puberty and death would have fallen over themselves to cozy up to him.

"How's school?"

She shrugged. "Okay, I guess. It's nice having Clint and Nat there."

Steve smiled. "Evie, this is Bonnie. She's Clint's niece… her family just moved down here. This is Evie, Phil's daughter."

Bonnie noticed her for the first time and afforded her a small smile. It didn't reach her eyes. "Hi," she said. "Can I get you drinks?"

"I'll have water," Evie said.

"Me too," he remarked.

Bonnie disappeared quickly to get their drinks, and Evie let a brow rise as she glanced back at Steve. "She's completely into you."

A blush rose on Steve's cheeks. He hid behind his menu and silence prevailed except for the sounds of the restaurant around them until Steve finally opened his mouth to speak. "So, do you want to get one pizza and split it?

Evie shrugged. "Sure, but I only want cheese."

"Fine, half cheese, half pepperoni." He closed his menu and folded his hands on top of it, looking around the restaurant for a few moments before Bonnie returned.

"So, are you ready to order?" she asked Steve, again forgetting about her other customer. It made Evie laugh. Steve was so completely clueless. It was adorable. When he had finished the order and Bonnie had slipped her notepad back in her apron, she looked at him again. "So, Clint said that I might be able to come out to the ranch to do some sketch work with the animals. Did he mention anything to you about it?"

"No," Steve replied. "But you are more than welcome to come over any time. I might even pull the old sketch book out."

Bonnie giggled and opened her mouth to speak, but a table near them grabbed her attention. She huffed in annoyance. "Excuse me."

Evie waited until the girl was away before looking at Steve. "Is there anything you _can't_ do?"

"What do you mean?"

"You ride a horse, run a ranch, are a captain in the Army… you draw," she said. "You're a regular renaissance man."

His laugh was full and good natured. "There are a lot of things I can't do."

"Like?"

"Beat space invaders, apparently," he said.

Evie scoffed and tossed the remnants of her straw wrapper at him. He chuckled and tossed it away. "What is one real thing you wish you could do that you don't do?"

He pursed his lips, lines forming in his forehead as a bit of his sandy hair fell across it. As he reached up to brush it aside, he sighed. "I wish I had the ability to forget."

She didn't even have to ask why. She knew why.

"What about you?" he asked. "What do you wish you could do?"

Evie rested her elbows on the table and folded her hands, resting her chin on them as she thought. "I wish I had more confidence in myself."

"Really? You're pretty independent," he said.

"There's a huge difference between confidence and independence," she said. "Sure, I can take care of myself, but it would be nice to believe in myself. If I did, I guarantee you I certainly wouldn't go looking for reassurance in relationships with men who couldn't care less about anybody but themselves."

Steve was silent as she explained that to him, and seeing that he didn't have anything to add, she merely sighed.

"Oh, and I can't hold a tempo if it killed me," she said. "It nearly did on occasion when my mom tried to give me music lessons."

"I'm sure your tempo can't be any worse than mine when I dance," he said with a laugh.

Evie grinned. "So you can't dance… you _do_ have an Achilles heel."

"In more ways than one," he replied. "Just wait… at the Halloween party next Saturday. You can see for yourself."

"Halloween party?" she asked.

"Did you pay no attention to the meeting we had on Monday?" he asked incredulously.

Evie shook her head. "I was a little preoccupied."

"We have the regular daily festivities with bands and stuff, but on Saturday night there's an all ages costume party. Mayor Fury makes an appearance and everything. It's the big to do about the whole festival."

"Do you dress up?" she asked.

He nodded and preempted her next question. "No, I won't tell you what my costume will be."

"Why not? I have to come up with something. I need inspiration," she replied.

"I'm sure you'll be fine on your own," he said. "Confidence, remember?"

She rolled her eyes and sipped her water. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Anyway," he said, changing the subject, "there is dancing involved that I don't typically do. But if I have to prove it to you, I will."

Their pizza arrived with that warning, and their meal took a lighter, playful turn, just like it'd been at the arcade. Well, at the arcade before she'd been in his arms. Soon, dinner was over and she found herself staring into the flames lapping at the side of the fireplace beside them. She was so mentally tired it was nice just to zone out for a bit as Steve paid the bill.

They left the restaurant and went back in search of his truck. The wind was bracing and sliced right through their clothing, but the truck was thankfully close enough it didn't matter. Driving back, however, brought both of them to complete silence. It was somewhat awkward in its feeling, but still companionable. She wanted to keep talking like they had been all afternoon and evening; now, though, her brain refused to focus on the words.

What was he thinking about anyway? Of course he wasn't particularly chatty, but she knew there was something on his mind. Ever since she'd brought up that question about what he couldn't do, he'd been quiet and contemplative. Had she said something wrong? Maybe she shouldn't have asked him anyway.

As he pulled the truck down the driveway into the ranch, Evie sighed and yawned into her hand. "I really had a great time this afternoon, Steve. Thank you. I think you probably did a better job of getting my mind off of everything better than Charlie did."

Of course, now her mind was on something else entirely. No matter how much she tried to refuse the feelings cropping up inside her, it was impossible.

He smiled but didn't turn to look at her. "It was my pleasure."

The house was dark as he parked, but her truck was back accompanied by Donald's black Jeep. Evie grumbled inwardly; she could only imagine what she would be walking into in a few moments. Steve came around the truck and held her door for her. She had grown accustomed to his brand of chivalry rather quickly, she realized. And she liked it. There was something to be said about being treated like royalty all the time.

"I'm good," she said.

"You say that like I'm still not going to walk you to the door," he remarked.

Evie chuckled and allowed him to shut the truck door, ambling up the stairs to the front door. She turned to bid him farewell again, but the words didn't come to her lips. Instead, upon seeing the serious look of determination furrowing his brow, she closed her mouth. He stood near enough that she could feel the heat of his body in the cold night, but he wasn't close enough to touch her. Within his blue eyes, she could see the storminess of an internal fight she could only guess the nature of. The stillness of the moment was only matched in the stillness and quiet of the autumn country night around them.

"Evie, I…" His voice trailed off and he looked down between them, scuffing a boot on the floorboards beneath their feet.

"Shh," she found herself replying, placing a hand on his chest. There she felt the thump of a rapidly beating heart. "I don't expect anything like that. We were friends out having a good time."

He nodded his head, but his apprehension did not appear to have lessened. With a heaving sigh, he reached up, large hands resting on either side of her face as he leaned down to brush his lips chastely across her forehead.

"Goodnight," he replied and turned to leave.

So stunned by the suddenness of his actions, Evie blinked a few times into the dark night as he made his quick escape. Nothing could have been more chaste about the kiss. Though she could claim triumph in the fact that he had kissed her, he clearly had no other intentions. It was like her father had kissed her.

And yet, it was different. Not a quick peck. It was a brush of his lips. A caress.

Evie chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip as she turned to open the door. It was locked—the first time she had ever found it so—which told her Charlie and Donald were up to no good inside the house. She really hoped whatever they had done or were doing that the mess was cleaned up. Evie raised her hand to knock and shoved her hands in her pockets to shield from the cold.

When neither person came to answer the door, she raised her hand again to knock but paused when she heard the crunch of gravel beneath a heavy foot. Evie turned to her left. With all the purpose in the world, his fists clenched, Steve strode up the path.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He raced up the two steps onto the porch and didn't stop. His lips crashed down on hers while his large hands fisted in her hair. Shaken to the core and off balance, she grasped for purchase on his person. The kiss was forceful and needy, deep and satisfying. There was no toying around with this. No teasing. Just as in everything Steve did, he conveyed everything he wanted to show her but couldn't voice. Every action, emotion, reaction was felt and understood through his lips. A strange tingle intensified as she kissed him in return; it quickly shot to her brain and then to every nerve ending in her body. It made her feel like nothing else she had ever experienced.

A soft groan of anguish escaped his throat. It was heart wrenching. God, why did he have to use her as his guinea pig? Why did he have to make her feel like this, while it was all still so painful to him to even think about kissing another woman?

She began to push away from him in anger, but the porch light flicking on diverted their attention. Evie unclenched her fist from the cotton of his button down and cleared her throat. "Good night," she said as the door opened to reveal a sleepy Charlie.

"Hey, sorry, we fell asleep," Charlie murmured.

Evie brushed by her friend into the house. When she heard the door close, she let out a breath of air she hadn't realized she'd held. Thank god. But Charlie was quick on her heels to find out what was wrong.

Charlie opened her mouth to start a verbal tirade, but Evie stopped short, spun around and held up a hand to stop her. "I don't want to talk about it. Leave me alone."

With that, Evie escaped into her room, locked the door and crawled into bed clothes and all.

And this was exactly the reason why she had sworn off men.


	17. Chapter 16

_A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you! Again, my apologies about the wait on an update. Life and all that, ya know? Please enjoy this next installment._

**Chapter 16**

"Take the stage scaffolding over there," Steve said to the surly looking truck driver in front of him. They hadn't wasted any time showing up this morning and the deep rumbling of the delivery trucks coming up the path had surprised him as he'd been fixing breakfast in his apartment.

However, he was thankful they had come so early. At least it would finally allow him respite from all the thoughts and feelings warring in his head since he'd made the mistake of going back to kiss Evie. He'd known, even as he'd turned around to go back for her, that he'd regret it. He just hadn't been prepared for _how_ he'd end up regretting it. Rather than feeling as though he was cheating on Peggy's memory, he felt completely at peace with kissing another woman, especially Evie. His opinion of the woman had made a complete one eighty since they'd met a week ago. It had stirred things within him back to life.

No, none of that really mattered any more. What troubled him the most was the fact that he'd chosen the most unavailable woman in the world to have these new and startling inclinations for. He wasn't being much of a gentleman forcing himself on her. She'd made that point clear as she pushed him away last night.

The two delivery trucks drove past and Steve took a step back to avoid having mud splashed on him from the rain the previous day. They moved in the direction of the open field where the rest of the helpers were beginning to construct the festival from the ground up. As the last truck cleared his line of vision, Steve noticed that Donald was climbing into his car, suit coat draped over an arm and a briefcase in one hand. He turned the car on and pulled into the drive, but drove up to him rather than leaving for work.

"Good morning," Donald said.

"Morning," Steve replied.

Donald looked at him with shrewd eyes. "Everything alright?"

"Why wouldn't they be?"

"Oh, I don't know… two women stomping around, slamming doors at each other and cursing under their breaths usually means something happened," Donald said.

Steve shook his head and sighed. "I think there's been a misunderstanding."

A blond brow raised in question, begging him to elaborate.

"I kissed Evie last night. Against her wishes."

Donald spluttered with laughter, but tried to cough it away when Steve frowned. Steve shifted uncomfortably and felt the heat of an embarrassed blush on his face. Donald took a breath. "I'm sorry, Steve… but you are the last person in the world who would take liberties with anyone. That's why I'm laughing—not at your situation. The audacity of thinking you could even be capable of something like that…"

"Well, I did."

"Are you absolutely certain she didn't want you to kiss her?"

"She'd said only a few minutes before that she didn't expect me to kiss her goodnight, that we were just friends out having a good time."

Donald's look was one of disbelief.

"She clearly doesn't want anything to do with men, least of all me. And I trespassed that line."

"You said she said she didn't _expect_ a kiss?" Donald asked. "Man, that means she would have welcomed one, but didn't expect one from you because she knows your own demons."

Steve frowned.

Donald huffed and sighed. "She kissed you first, didn't she? At the bar the other night?"

"How do you know about that?" Steve asked. "I didn't say anything to you about that part."

"Nat saw it on the security camera they have out back. Why do you think Charlie was summoned to a meeting with her for lunch yesterday?" Donald asked. "Nat's pretty protective of you."

"Of all of us," Steve replied.

Donald nodded. "Natasha has made it her personal mission to vet everyone. She doesn't want you to get hurt. I imagine it won't be long before she goes after Evie."

"Evie doesn't remember it," Steve said. "Besides, she was intoxicated. She probably didn't mean it even if she could recall doing it."

"Well, it's going to get back to her one way or another, and judging by her mood this morning, I think she'd like to hear about it from you. Not Natasha or Charlie."

Steve hung his head. "If I knew it was going to be this damn complicated, I _would_ have become a monk."

Just as he said it, Evie came out of the house wearing a figure hugging gray skirt and jacket. She looked all business with her hair pulled back and her makeup done. Instead of the shearling boots of which she was so fond, tall heels accentuating the shape of her legs and rear adorned her feet. It was like a completely different woman had arrived.

This woman, with her lips pressed into a grim line, was the woman he'd met a week ago at her father's funeral. This woman exuded coldness and discomfort, not the woman full of warmth and passion that he had come to adore during this short time.

He'd gone and fucked it all up. He just knew he was responsible for turning her back into that creature.

"Man, you got it bad," Donald said. "How 'bout instead of staring at her, you go talk to her."

Steve shook his head. "How do you expect me to talk to that? She's got a protective shield on her a foot thick."

Donald shrugged and shifted gears in preparation to leave. "Start chipping away at it, Captain."

With that, Donald gave him a salute and turned the car around to leave for work. Steve huffed and looked back up at the house. A black Towncar pulled to a stop in front of the driveway and a suited chauffeur got out. Evie handed the man her overnight bag and followed him to the rear passenger door. Steve knew he should take Donald's advice and speak to her before she left, but he just couldn't come up with a way to say the things he needed to say that quickly.

Evie paused a moment and looked directly at him, eyes narrowing slightly. She slipped into the expensive car and let the driver go about his business. When the car was gone, it left the immediate area quiet and sedate. Just how he liked it. And yet… he couldn't help but think there was suddenly something missing in the silence.

He supposed it was too late now to try to talk to her; he'd just have to wait until she returned tomorrow. Hopefully by then she would be in a somewhat better mood.

* * *

As her car pulled to a stop in front of Laufeyson Development's office in Scottsdale, she was about ready to scream. She was tired and unhappy after a fitful night of dreams and nightmares and staying up thinking about the actions which precipitated her discomfort. Everything about it made her upset and angry. Steve wasn't entirely to blame. She could have stopped him had she wanted to, but he did hold some guilt in the matter. Why did he go around kissing girls who had more issues than a magazine when he wasn't even sure of his own self? It had only royally screwed things up between them, not mention between her and Charlie.

Charlie was perhaps Steve's biggest advocate. There was something about the man that had enchanted Charlie—more fooled, Evie was sure—into believing that he was worth falling in love with. Even though Charlie supported her no men turn, apparently Steve Rogers wasn't to be included in that group like he was a god among men, just like her Thor doppelganger. Charlie could like whoever the hell she wanted; still, it felt like Evie had nowhere to turn for advice. Charlie would only sing the praises of Steve Rogers if she went to her with problems.

At least this mess with Laufeyson would take her mind off of having to return to the ranch tomorrow. Evie checked her hair and makeup before slipping out of the car. She smoothed the skirt down over her thighs and buttoned the suit jacket. It felt proper to be wearing her work clothes once again, which provided for a much needed bit of normalcy in a quickly changing tide. With one last adjustment, she grabbed her purse from the seat and turned to look at the driver who held the door open for her.

"Thank you, Jerry," she replied. "I appreciated not having to drive."

He smiled. "My pleasure, ma'am. On Mr. Laufeyson's request, I will have your things taken to your hotel and I will return after your meeting."

"Thanks," she replied and started for the lobby entrance.

The elevator was chrome with more chrome, some smooth and shiny and other parts brushed and dull. This motif spread onto the first floor. What wasn't covered in the silver chrome was white or made of clear glass. The chairs in the lobby were white leather and the floor a bright white marble. A glass partition showed rows of cubicles behind it as though she had stepped into an IKEA showroom. It was cold, uncomfortable and very clinical.

It was Loki.

It was just what she'd expected.

"Good morning," said the woman behind the front desk. "May I help you?"

"Yes, Evie Coulson for my meeting with Mr. Laufeyson," she replied.

She smiled. "Please have a seat, ma'am, and I will let his assistant know."

Evie sat down in one of the chairs and listened to the tinkling of water in the fountain behind her. She was about ready to ask where the restroom was when she heard the sound of hard-soled shoes coming up the hall. Laufeyson looked every bit as tailored as he always did, but this time wore a navy suit and matching tie. He had nothing but business on his mind.

His smile didn't reach his eyes, but she'd come to expect that, as well.

She stood from her seat and waited for him to stop in front of her and extend his hand. "Evie, I'm so glad you could make it. I know how busy you are with the festival coming up."

Evie nodded. "I don't have to worry about anything with Steve running the show."

He motioned for her to fall into step beside him. "I'm actually surprised he didn't come with you," he said as they walked down a long corridor.

"Yeah." She sighed as they stepped past the doors at the end of the hall into a large conference room. There were men sitting around the table—all in their business power suits—who turned to look at her. After a quick introduction, she was placed at one end of the table and introduced to an automated presentation.

She found it incredibly difficult to sit still and listen to this and that and land value and sale value and fair market value… whatever it was that went into this deal. Numbers, as she'd told Steve yesterday, had never been her thing and she just needed to know the bottom line to make a decision. What was Steve doing now anyway? He was probably busy helping various crews set up booths and stages and rides, moving through the crowd and commanding them with confidence and authority. Either that or he was tending to the animals, enjoying the outdoors and the relief that came with not being cramped up in such an ascetic setting.

Evie glanced at the suits around the table. They didn't care, either, about the presentation. They only cared about _their_ bottom line and securing the sale. She supposed they at least had that in common with each other. It was sad to think that her father's legacy could be boiled down to a few numbers like this; that an army of similarly fashioned, faceless and nameless men could care less about who they hurt as long as they made a buck out of it. The men who her father had helped—the men who relied on a place to recover from the psychological and physical tolls of war—would be back at a base with random visits to a VA psychologist. They'd be a number back in the system.

None of the men at this table were worried about the thousands of animals that would be slaughtered or sold to less than ideal locations to liquidate the assets.

With the destruction of the ranch, every piece of her father would be lost forever. Her relationship woes with him not included, Evie wasn't sure she was ready to give him up… to give up the best parts of him to the emotionless automatons sitting with her.

As angry as she was with Steve, she realized one of the best parts of her father's life was the man he had befriended and nursed back from the brink. She didn't want to think about telling Steve to leave the place that have given him so much comfort over the years. How could she be the person who made the decision to send him back on active duty when he clearly didn't want to or wasn't ready to face war again?

Still, even as she thought it, she knew she would never be able to come up with the money to cover her father's debts. She needed to listen and pay attention to this presentation, even if it bored her to death.

The lights came up as the presentation ended. All attention turned to her when Laufeyson asked if she had any questions.

"Would you consider settling on a portion of the land?" she asked. "Not all of it?"

A murmur rose in the room as everyone looked to Laufeyson. "I'm sorry, Dr. Coulson, but the land in portion is not worth as much as it would be whole," Loki replied. "The valuable land is the land your father owned privately— the two thousand acres that contains the barns, the ranch house, the housing… the majority of your ranch operation. The stuff you _think_ you can sell is federal grazing land. You don't really own it, but you have the right to the land. In effect, the ranch rents it from the government for a hefty fee each year. The right to the use of that land _does_ go with the ranch, but we wouldn't be buying it. Our offer is based on the land we can use."

"So if I sold, you'd have to return that land to the government," she said. "You can't build anything on it."

"Correct," he said.

This was exactly why she needed Steve here. He'd know what the hell Loki was talking about. Maybe if she gave him the leather bound book in front of her, he'd be able to make heads or tails of it.

"I need time to think about this," she replied.

Laufeyson smiled and nodded at someone in the corner of the room. The lights went up around them as he glanced at the rest of his associates. "Would you all give Dr. Coulson and me a moment?"

All of the faceless men stood from their seats and gathered their things, murmuring to each other as they filed out of the conference room. The door shut with a clang, and she glanced back at her host. He had busied himself by shutting off the presentation and closing the lid of the laptop, but now moved his way over to her, taking a seat to her right. Laufeyson turned completely to face her. A gesture of openness. Familiarity.

"I won't lie to you and say that this business deal means very much to me," he said. "I've wanted this land for a long time to expand the business."

"But I can't displace all the staff," she replied "I just… can't do it. I can't be the bad guy here."

He sighed. Reaching out to her, he placed a hand on her folded ones on top of the table. His touch was icy and unfeeling. It was just a gesture to him… a social convention that he sought to emulate. He tried to affect concern, but it was useless. He cared only for achieving his goal and not for who he had to step on to get there. It amazed her that she'd found that attractive once.

"I know you're worried about that," he said, "but think about all the hundreds of people who will not be employed if I can't build my development. I'm certain we could work something out with the Army to see if the crew could stay on. Granted, this won't be for Captain Rogers since he is, as I understand it, cured of his ailments according to his record."

Evie scoffed and pulled her hands away from him. "How can you relegate another man's suffering like that? Like it's so trivial."

"Because it is," he replied. "I have no doubt he has suffered. We all have our own demons to conquer."

"Indeed we do, but I would appreciate it if you had a little more care in addressing Steve's issues," she said. "I'd like to see you after you lose your best friend and the love of your life."

He huffed and let out a derisive chuckle. "I wouldn't be so stupid so as to open myself up to the potential."

Evie narrowed her eyes at the man, disbelieving he was actually admitting that his sole priority was to use women rather than forming an emotional attachment. But she'd known that from the moment they'd met. There was only one person Loki Laufeyson cared about.

"That's really sad, Laufeyson," she said.

He smirked. "You and I are of the same breed, Coulson. We both want recognition and adoration because neither of us received much of it in our respective childhoods. I'm certain your numerous relationships are evidence of being unfulfilled."

Evie pushed back from the table and stoop up hastily. "My only problem was falling for men like you."

"I would take that as compliment. Dr. Smith is a man to be admired, judging by his credentials," he said.

"How do you…"

His hard, cool stare didn't require a verbal response. He certainly had done his homework.

"This is ridiculous! I'm going to my hotel now."

Laufeyson was quick to stand up and seemed to appear before her in an instant. She stopped short and took a step back to look up at him. "Dr. Coulson… Evie… let's forget about the personal stuff. Let's also not mince words or distract from the issue at hand. You and I both know you don't have the means to save the ranch. You have to sell. I have the money and you can make a tidy profit for yourself. You can go back to England and dig up bones or whatever you do."

"Your research isn't very good if you think I can go back there and resume my old career," she said.

A dark brow raised and his lips curled. It made her skin crawl. "No, of course not."

Evie narrowed her eyes. "Let me go."

"I'll double my offer if you agree to it before you leave this office," he said.

She would be lying if she told someone later that she hadn't paused to consider it. If he did double the offer, she would be a very wealthy woman and wouldn't have to worry about money ever again.

"Why?"

"As I said, I have been trying to buy this land for a long time," he said. "I will make the money back tenfold with all I have planned for it."

Evie wanted to question why, but the door to the conference room opened again to reveal the same blonde assistant she had seen at his bar the other day. "What is it, Erika?"

"Sign this," she said.

"What am I signing?" He made no attempt to hide his ire at being interrupted.

"It's the Chitauri Demo and Excavation bid order for Prescott," she replied. The assistant was unflappable. She probably had to be with a boss like Loki.

He angrily scribbled his name and jerked his head to the door. "Call the driver for Dr. Coulson."

"Yes, sir." Erika disappeared out the door, leaving them alone once more.

"What I really hate is that you think I'm a foregone conclusion," Evie said.

"Aren't you?" he asked. "The way I hear Charlie describe it, you are… in all ways."

Evie lifted her hand to slap him, but stopped herself. Clenching her hand into a tight fist, she shoved it down to her side and held it there.

"How could you have been raised by the same person that raised Donald?" she seethed. "He's so wonderful and you're so... so..."

He cleared his throat and turned around, walking to the table as coolly as he could manage despite the fact he clearly disliked being compared to his stepbrother. It was as though nothing could rattle him. She so dearly wanted to find something to hurt him, but her mind refused to form thoughts. Laufeyson came back to her and held out the leather bound prospectus.

"Take it," he said. "I have a feeling you'll come back to me before long."

Evie huffed and shoved it into the oversized purse that hung on her shoulder. "Is that all? May I go outside to wait for my car?"

"Certainly," he nodded.

She didn't wait a moment more before flying out the door into the heat of the day. Luckily, the driver was already there waiting for her escape.


	18. Chapter 17

_A/N: Apologies for the wait. Just when I think I'm going to have time for fun stuff like this, something rears its head. This time, it's an impossible grad class that I had not expected to be so intensive. But it's Spring Break now! So, look for another chapter soon after this one._

_My unending thanks to everyone reading, commenting and favoriting. I love getting feedback!_

_I am planning a completely different _Captain America: First Avenger_ AU set in Regency England to begin before this finishes (but when my course load lightens for the spring/summer). Hope to see you all there!_

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 17**

When there was a knock at her hotel room door a few hours later, Evie was surprised. She didn't know anyone but Loki down here, and she sure as hell wished she didn't know him. The way she'd left it his office, she didn't count on him showing up to her hotel room, even if he did own the damn building.

Peeping through the small hole in the door, she ascertained that it was actually a uniformed hotel employee carrying with him a large white box. "Yes?" she asked through the heavy security door.

"I have a delivery for Dr. Coulson," he replied.

Evie frowned but opened the door anyway. "What is it?"

"Compliments of Mr. Laufeyson."

"No. Take it back," Evie said.

"Ma'am?"

Evie scoffed. "I don't want whatever it is. Take it back with you and tell Laufeyson to shove it."

"I-I don't understand, ma'am," the young man said. "Mr. Laufeyson's assistant dropped it off and asked that we deliver it."

"That's great. I don't want it."

"Please, ma'am," he replied, "it's my job here. Please take the box. Or let me set it down, at least. You don't have to open it. But if I don't deliver it as requested—."

His words stopped abruptly when he caught himself rambling, but he didn't have to finish his thought. She wouldn't doubt it if Laufeyson fired people left and right over little things. He would undoubtedly take out the anger he was feeling for her rejection on the poor, unsuspecting delivery boy. She refused to be responsible for that.

"Fine!" she said. "Put it down over there."

The boy nodded and stiffly walked into her suite of rooms, placing the large box on the coffee table in the living room area. On top of it, he set a shiny black shopping bag. She hadn't noticed that before. With a half bow, he left the room hurriedly and shut the door behind him like she would change her mind and make him take the delivery back.

Evie stood still and stared at the offending objects. She didn't know why she was trying to delude herself into thinking she wasn't the least bit curious about what was inside both items. It was her natural inclination for discovery that called to her. However, she knew without further investigation, the things inside would only create more anger and annoyance.

She huffed when she reached the table and reached into the bag, rolling her eyes as she extracted the plain brown box with white scrawled writing on the top. "Louboutin? Does it _look_ like I wear heels and enjoy it?"

Her toes screamed for mercy even before she had a chance to look into the box, which were filled with two beautifully made shoes, authentic red soles and everything. She wouldn't deny that he did have an eye for the finer things in life, but the last thing she wanted to do was don another pair of heels like this.

She sighed and reached for the lid of the large box, pulling it back to reveal tissue paper. Sitting on top of the paper was a note written with a heavy black pen on personal stationery.

_Evie,_

_We got off on the wrong foot today. Please accept these paltry gifts and join me for a charity gala tonight hosted by the Phoenix Art Museum. The driver will pick you up at 7._

_-L._

"The nerve!" she yelled in disgust, tearing back the tissue paper to look at the admittedly beautiful gown hidden beneath it. A dark, rich shade of wine, the fabric was soft and luxurious and had probably cost a lot of money. The girly side of her psyche screamed out for her to at least try the gown on. When was she ever going to wear something like this again?

Then the completely rational and angry side of her psyche told her to step back. He was trying to buy her allegiance. She didn't want any part of this. Not now, not ever. But there was no way to escape. The driver who had driven her about earlier was unreachable—probably ferrying Laufeyson here and there. She could call a cab or rent another car; it was an expense she did not want to pay at the moment. Not when she would need every available penny in the future.

Her only hope was to call Charlie and beg her to come down to Phoenix for a quick extraction. Even as she hit the speed dial on her cell phone, Evie knew Charlie wasn't going to come get her. On the off chance her friend picked up the cell phone, she would just give her lip about coming down to Phoenix in the first place. But it was worth a try.

The phone went to message and she clicked off the screen, trying to decide to try next. Steve would be too busy and didn't carry his cell phone with him while he was working. She hadn't saved any other numbers in her phone… well, all except for one.

Donald's office number would still be there from the call nearly two weeks ago when this whole ordeal began. He would know what to do. And really, wasn't he the logical choice considering this was his family member causing all the strife?

Evie waited for the chirpy receptionist to pick up. Instead of the same official greeting she had received a few times since learning of her father's death, the woman that picked up the phone sounded rushed and spoke quickly. "Oncology, this is Angela speaking."

"Hi, Angela," Evie said. "Is Dr. Blake available?"

Angela sighed. "Let me check. May I say who's calling?"

"Evie," she said.

"Evie…" Angela replied, waiting for a last name.

"He'll know who it is."

The line went silent for a moment, followed by terrible hold music that seemed to take forever. Evie had listened to two whole songs before there was a click followed by Donald's commanding voice on the other line.

"What's up?" he asked breathlessly.

"I'm sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?" she asked.

There was a muffled sound on the other end as though he were in anguish.

"Are you okay?"

Donald cleared his throat. "I'm fine. What did you need?"

"I have a really huge favor to ask," she said.

"What?"

"Is there any possible way you can convince someone to come rescue me from your brother?"

Donald let out a low chuckle. "What's he done now?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she said. "It was a mistake to even come down here. Now he's trying to buy me with pretty dresses and shoes."

"Wait until he gets to the jewelry," Donald said. "Hold out for that."

"I'm being serious here."

Donald laughed. "You should go with him tonight, though. I know he can be trying at times…"

"He basically insinuated that I was a whore and tried to hit on me."

"I'm sorry he said that." Donald's tone was long suffering.

"He basically thinks that I'm just going to sign every freaking thing away to him. Let him tear everything up, do away with every good thing my dad ever did!" Evie stopped herself by letting out a long breath. God, Laufeyson made her so angry.

"It sounds like you're wanting to keep the ranch," he said.

Evie shrugged. "I want to, but I can't. I don't have the money."

Donald didn't reply to her, but she did hear a female giggle on his line. A very recognizable female giggle.

"Charlie! Please come get me."

Her friend laughed again. "I'm not coming down to save you. You made your bed, now lie in it."

"But, Charlie…" Evie wasn't beyond whining. "Donald, do something."

"_You're_ not going to help her, either," Charlie said. Evie could just imagine the pointed look she had given Donald.

"Oh, come on!" Evie said. "Donald…"

"I'm sorry, Evie," he said. "My allegiance lies with the woman who has my balls in a vice grip."

"Ugh, I didn't need that image," Evie replied.

Donald laughed. "Go to the thing tonight. You'll have fun. And Loki isn't all bad. Also, it's a special collections thing at the museum for illuminated manuscripts and medieval and renaissance art on loan from Stuttgart."

"And why didn't you tell me that?" Charlie asked, affronted.

"I couldn't take you, I'm on call," he said.

"You can come down and go with _me_," Evie replied.

Charlie huffed. "I'm sure it'll still be there for awhile. I'll get there before I leave."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because you were the blockhead who wouldn't listen to anyone about going down there. You let him engineer it so it wasn't easy for you to escape. You're smarter than this; your punishment is that you stay there for the night. Sweat it out for a bit. I'll see you tomorrow when you come back up."

Evie had never wanted to reach through the phone and strangle her best friend more than she did at that very moment. "I really hate you right now."

"You love me, even when we're being bitches to each other," she said. "Goodbye."

The line went dead before Evie could say anything else to Donald. Enraged, she threw the phone on the couch and walked across the room to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking some drab brown mountains and a cloudless blue sky. Looking out on the skyline, she tried to calm herself, but it wasn't working. Pacing didn't help much either, especially when she caught a glimpse of the dress again.

It would serve them right, anyway, if something terrible happened to her. And she'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little intrigued about the museum installation. It was right up her alley, and she figured if she had to suffer, she'd rather be doing something interesting to counteract the socializing.

Evie walked over to the box and lifted the dress out of it. It fell to full length like a cascade of expensive wine pouring from a bottle. As beautiful as it was, it also looked very revealing from the plunge neck to the scoop back.

She didn't even know if she had the underwear to wear with this.

Or the double sided tape.

But going out and doing something other than sitting in the hotel room fuming was what she needed. If it truly got bad enough to warrant her leaving, she could always call a cab.

* * *

Steve grumbled as he felt the vibration of the cell phone in his pocket. Normally he wouldn't have carried it with him—he detested the interruption of technology when he was out working—but it was a must have today with all of the deliveries coming in. When trucks were close, they would call to warn him, and he would clear the drive for them. However, he was sure all the deliveries for the day had been made. The sun was slowly lowering on the horizon, and volunteers were clearing out to go home to their families for dinner or other weekend pursuits.

He stuffed his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled the device out. It was only Donald. Brushing his forearm over a sweaty brow, Steve flipped up the stop of the phone and put it to his ear. "Yeah?"

"Hey," said the quiet voice on the other end.

"Donald?" Steve asked. Beeping and whirring machines in the background made it hard to hear, but his voice seemed even more muted.

"Yeah, I can't talk loudly," Donald said. "Charlie can't hear me."

"Where are you?"

"At the office," Donald replied. "She's sleeping on the couch in my office."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Isn't there something against that in hospital policy?"

Donald chuckled. "We didn't do half of what's going through your mind right now. She just came to spend time with me while I work on files."

"Ah," Steve replied. "What'd you need?"

"I, uh, have a rescue mission if you're interested," Donald said.

"A rescue mission?"

"I got a call a little bit ago from a very contrite woman in Phoenix begging for help home," he said.

Steve blew the air out of his lungs and hung his head, kicking at the dirt beneath his boots. "Of course you did."

"I'm not lying here."

"She could have called me directly."

"If you were her, would you have called you?"

"Probably not," Steve said.

Donald sighed. "My brother has convinced her to go to some charity thing at the art museum. She doesn't want to go, she wants to come home… but I convinced her to go because I can't go get her and Charlie refuses to go get her."

"What happened to them anyway? They're best friends… and then they're… this…"

"Steve, my friend, they're women," Donald said. "They still love each other, they're just in a tiff right now."

"So you want me to go to Phoenix, unannounced and uninvited, and you expect her to just go along with me?"

Donald made a sound. "Yes, yes, I do."

"And how am I going to get in?"

"Wear your dress uniform. People always let you in places when you wear your dress uniform," Donald replied.

Steve closed his eyes and shook his head. Of course he knew Donald was right; the uniform, especially an officer's uniform, still held a great deal of authority and privilege in the world. This did not mean, however, that he wanted to put the damn thing on no matter how much he had earned the right to wear it.

"It's your ticket in," Donald said.

"Why can't I just call her and tell her she doesn't even have to go?" Steve asked.

"Because then it wouldn't be dramatic," Donald said. "Don't you want to make an impression on her?"

"Haven't I already made one big enough?"

Donald laughed and sighed. "Look, I'm giving you the opportunity to be the knight in shining armor. You can't go wrong being the knight in shining armor. Trust me."

"I do trust you… I just don't…"

"The gala starts at eight," Donald said. "If I were you, I'd go get ready."

Steve didn't have a chance to respond before Donald hung up the phone. He removed the phone his ear and stared at it for a long time, his mind going blank as the world seemed to still around him. He wasn't paying attention to the sounds or the actions. All he could see was Evie. He knew he had to go, even if just for his own sanity. If he didn't go, he'd only worry about her all night. It was better just to go down and get her than to have that on his mind.

He sighed and looked up around him. "Hey, Carlos!"

"Yeah, boss?" the man asked.

"You think you can handle this tonight?"

Carlos nodded. "Of course."

"I need to go down to Phoenix. I'll be back in the morning for the first deliveries," he said.

"Is everything okay, boss?"

Steve sighed. "I sure hope so. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call me."

"I won't," Carlos gave him a salute which was born more of habit than it was respect, but Steve didn't mind it. It was difficult to take the man out of the Army or the Army out of the man. He knew that first hand, despite his unhappiness with his own position.

With a final sigh, Steve started in the direction of his apartment, trying to remember the last time he'd actually worn anything more than jeans and a shirt.


	19. Chapter 18

_A/N: For this chapter, please imagine, if you will, that Steve's WWII era Army dress uniform is still the fashion. Because I said so._

_Again, I can't possibly express the amount of gratitude I feel for all the readers. Please enjoy the new chapter._

**Chapter 18**

It was somewhere between the European collection and the American collection that Evie made the decision to officially resign from her fellowship and move to the States, and it wasn't because of the art. It wasn't because of Steve. It wasn't because of Charlie. Or the ranch or anything or anyone else. It was because, at that moment, as she looked at a beautiful bronze sculpture of a cowboy on a bucking horse, she realized she felt the need for freedom like that horse.

She didn't want to care about her mother any more. She didn't want to _take_ care of her. She didn't want to be confined by the rigidity and oftentimes snobbery of British academia. She didn't want to be those boring people downstairs in pretty dresses and fancy suits bound up in silly social morays and grasping for statuses in their world that meant nothing to the outside. The only thing that had kept her there these last many years was Dr. Smith; his superciliousness was the final nail in the coffin.

Really, she realized was a fool to ever think she could stay in one place doing one thing for her whole life. The determination of her father's personality had rubbed off on her and had driven her in school, but her yearning to be a free spirit like her mother had far outweighed it for some time. Of course, it all seemed so ironic that she had to come back here to find the freedom she needed. Twelve years ago, she would have laughed in her father's face. But now she understood why he liked his job as much as he did; it was the perfect combination of hard work and freedom.

With or without the ranch, she planned to stay. She'd never done much traveling here, always thinking it was too close to her father, but there were places and people she wanted to see. Miles and miles of openness that would allow her freedom to explore, to learn, and to grow. There was no reason to stay in England. Yes, her research was there. But she could easily find a niche here, if she could somehow salvage her reputation. With any luck, there would be something left for her.

She sighed and moved on to another painting, a landscape of an adobe village. Brightly colored and interesting, she tilted her head to the side and found herself smiling for the first time since she'd arrived in Phoenix that morning. Just as quickly as the glimmer of hope had ascended on her, a black cloud descended in the shape of a tall shadow connected to Laufeyson.

She first felt his icy hand on her bare back before the whiff of the strong cologne he wore blew by her. It was amazing to her how different men could be. Yesterday, Steve had been warm and yielding and perfect. He smelled of the sun, leather and soap. Today, Loki was the complete antithesis. She was sure he had his merits… somewhere… but she wasn't about to be duped again, trying as he might.

"What?" she asked him softly.

"I was curious where you'd run off to," he said. "Haven't you had enough of this Southwestern stuff?"

She glanced around the room. "No, I'm just getting into it."

He looked unhappy. "I don't understand the fascination with all of it. If I had my choice, I'd be back in New York."

Evie shrugged noncommittally. She didn't want to bring up what she knew; she didn't know how he'd deal with Donald airing his family secrets. But those secrets Charlie had told her, along with their meeting this morning, had pretty much confirmed for her she didn't want to do business with him in any sense of the word.

"Loki," she said and turned to look at him. "I appreciate the dress and everything you've done today, even despite this morning's meeting, but I've decided against your offer."

He heaved a great sigh like it was the greatest loss he'd ever been dealt. "I won't officially withdraw my offer. It'll still stand as you mull it over."

Evie did not reply. There was no use replying to him because he would still have it in his mind that he could convince her otherwise. Unfortunately, she wasn't entirely certain she couldn't be convinced in the future. If no other options presented themselves it might be inevitable. That was the plan in which Laufeyson had chosen to bank on.

"I'll leave you to peruse the offerings," he said, one dark brow quirking up with the side of his mouth. It was the nearest he'd come to a smile all night. She listened to the sound of his shoes on the hardwood floor dissipate as they left her. When she turned back to the artwork, Evie realized that the little bit of good will she had mustered to pull herself together and come out had evaporated. As much as she would love to stay to look at the art, she was wiped. She wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for the next three days, at least.

Evie opened her small clutch and glanced at the time. "8:30 on a Friday night." She shook her head forlornly and turned toward the stairs. Taking them slowly, so as not to fall flat on her face in these sky high heels that made her toes beg for mercy. At the base of the large staircase, Laufeyson stood harassing a white-faced waiter for some misstep. When she drew closer, she realized the whole dressing down was due to the fact that the champagne on the waiter's tray was not cold enough for him.

She rolled her eyes and took another step down toward them, thinking she might break up the altercation, when a large man dressed in dark army green strode over to the pair, interrupting the tirade and drawing Laufeyson's attention away from the server. The waiter's savior was a tall man with sandy blond hair cropped close to his head, expertly combed into place. His broad shoulders looked strong beneath the uniform coat that smoothed down an expansive back. Two gold bars resided on his shoulders. Beyond that, it was difficult to tell anything other than the fact that the man was completely comfortable in the uniform and exuded a level of power, and this just from seeing him from the rear. Which, she had to admit, was also delightful.

It didn't, for one second, occur to her that it could be Steve Rogers standing there until she heard the man's voice. It was the same smooth, even-cadenced voice she'd become so accustomed to this last week. One that made her stomach tie in knots and do flip flops at the same time.

Why was he here? Who'd called him and convinced him to come? Had he come on his own volition? If so, then how could he have possibly known about this thing and dressed up? For that matter, why was he in uniform? It wasn't like this was an official gathering.

As Loki spoke tersely and pushed past him, she realized it didn't matter. What mattered was that Steve was here.

Oh, and that he looked amazing. Not that he didn't always look amazing, even covered in head-to-toe dirt. But there was something special about this. Beyond the fanciness of the dress, he carried himself in such a poised, dignified way that spoke of his pride for the uniform and for the country in which he served, even if he had suffered because of it.

It was then that he must have caught a flash of her dress on the stair from which she'd watched the brief interaction. He turned around and gave her a second glance, a pleasant grin lifting the left corner of his lips as his gaze worked their way up her legs, brushed over her hips, paused briefly on her rather bare chest and slid up the length of her neck to finally meet her eyes.

Despite the fact that she knew he couldn't possibly mean anything from his lengthy perusal, and the fact that she was still angry with him about last night, it felt good to know that he clearly was attracted and appreciative of the way she looked tonight.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as she continued down the stairs.

He stepped up a few and held out his hand to her after seeing her struggle with the length of the gown and heels. She slipped her hand into his. His grasp was firm, warm and comforting in a way she hadn't expected. It drew a shiver from deep within the recesses of her body. Steve instinctively pulled her nearer to him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. How did she tell him she _wasn't_ actually chilled? This shiver had come from an entirely different location and for a very different reason than body temperature.

"You haven't answered me," she said.

"I'm here to rescue you," he replied. "Do you need rescuing?"

Evie couldn't stop the bubble of laughter on her lips. "Like you wouldn't believe."

"Do you need to say goodbye?"

"Uh, no," she said. "But it seems like a waste that you got all dressed up just for this. Maybe we should stay for a little while."

He looked down at her. "I wouldn't enjoy the art with the present company."

Evie followed his gaze as he lifted his head and turned to look at Laufeyson. The man in question was seething in a corner, not paying any attention to the group of people surrounding him. "Point taken. Then what do we do?"

"We should probably go back to the hotel and rest up," he replied. "I'm too exhausted to drive back up to Prescott tonight and I refuse to let you drive the mountains if you've been drinking, so we'll have to leave before sunrise in order to be back for deliveries."

Without much more debate, they left the party and headed for the parking lot. He did the all too familiar dance of opening the door and helping her in with the dress, making sure her seatbelt was fastened and checking all the mirrors before backing out of the parking spot. When they reached the hotel in Scottsdale, they did everything in reverse order until they reached the lobby and he was forced to relinquish control of the situation so she could show him the way to her suite.

It didn't occur to her until they were stepping off the elevator on the top floor that this situation was going to be awkward. It had seemed familiar and normal until now. Like this happened every day of their lives. Not the whole fancy hotel thing, but the getting off an elevator to retire to the same hotel room thing. She felt more comfortable with Steve than she had any other man in her acquaintance, but the memories from the previous night flooded her brain and made her question was she was doing. She still hadn't forgiven him.

But she couldn't bring herself to say anything. He'd been so selfless to come down here, the least she could do was refrain from arguing with him about last night.

So she didn't. Instead, they stepped into the large suite and she motioned around the space. "There's a powder room you can change in over there," she said, pointing to the side. "Or you can wait for me to get changed and then use the bedroom bathroom."

He seemed dazed as he turned his attention toward her. "Oh, yeah… the, uh, powder room is fine."

"Good," she said and walked toward the doors to the master bedroom. The dress came off quickly as soon as she was safely locked away in the bedroom. She replaced it with a worn, holey Oxford shirt that had seen better days and a pair of loose pants. She hadn't packed for cuteness, but she reminded herself it didn't matter.

Eventually, she knew, she'd convince herself that it didn't matter if she continued to repeat it.

She grabbed her hairbrush and went back to the living room where Steve was organizing his uniform into a garment bag. In its place, he wore a snug white undershirt and nondescript grey sweats. It made her pause for a moment. Jeans and work shirts on the open range were one thing, but they had covered every inch of his body to protect from the sun and other elements. The dress uniform had been sexy in a powerful kind of way. This was a state of relaxed, comfortable undress she hadn't expected from him; he didn't know she'd watched with Charlie as he and Donald had chopped wood without less. This felt more intimate.

Not that she was complaining. The material of the undershirt was thin and followed the contour of the muscles beneath nicely. The sweats stretched just so across his rear. This left her unnaturally attracted to the flexing muscles of his arms and the visible indents caused by the tautness of muscle, skin and sweats on his rear end.

Evie scrunched her eyes closed, chastising herself for letting her mind wander. She cleared her throat and walked to the mini bar to procure a bottle of water. "You want anything from the bar? I'm trying to be as expensive as possible just to piss Laufeyson off."

"A water would be great," he said.

She grabbed the last bottle and tossed it to him. He caught it and twisted the cap off. He'd downed half of the water before he stopped to take a breath. "You know, even if you emptied that thing, he wouldn't even bat an eyelash at it."

Evie shrugged. "It makes me feel better."

"Keep fighting the good fight," he chuckled and walked around to sit on the couch.

"So," she said as she joined him on the couch at a safe, respectable distance, "I really want to thank you for coming down here."

"You said so before," he replied.

She laughed. "Well, I mean it. After, er, everything I didn't expect it."

"I figured if you called Donald, then it had to be pretty bad down here."

"You have no idea."

"Then why did you go to the charity thing?"

"I didn't have anything better to do. I like art. And it was in a public setting. What's the worst he could do? Insult me and hit on me again?"

Steve frowned at his water bottle. Long fingers played with the corner of the wrapper. "He hit on you? At a business meeting?"

Evie ran a hand through her hair. "Well, not so much as hit on, but insinuated some things."

"Ah," he said.

"He's really a jerk."

"I know. I'm sorry I couldn't come down with you for the meeting."

Evie sighed. "You can't protect me from everything."

He laughed and looked directly her, his blue eyes soft and expressive. "Old habits die hard."

She reached for him, not thinking as she rested a hand on his upper arm. "Don't let it die. I'm really starting to like it."

Steve squirmed in his seat and turned so that one leg was folded beneath him. "Evie, the other night… the kiss…"

Evie closed her eyes and let a heavy sigh pass her lips. "It's not your fault Steve… I could have stopped you when you came back to the house. But I didn't. I let you kiss me, and I shouldn't have been angry when you realized it was a mistake."

"A mistake…" he muttered. His face contorted into a look of confusion, but didn't last as he gazed at her askance. He shook his head as though to clear it. "Yeah, a mistake..."

"I've already forgotten about it," she assured him, even though she hadn't. If it made him feel better—easier—about the situation, then she could just leave it at that. It was easier in the end, anyway.

He seemed inordinately interested in the water bottle in his hands as he didn't say anything else to her.

Evie, desperate to change the subject, cleared her throat. "So, before we get back up to Prescott, I want to make it known that despite Laufeyson still considering his offer as being on the table, it is categorically _off_ the table. I refuse to let him have it."

Steve's expression changed instantly. It was surprise was evident, but relief soon followed. Then he frowned. "Are you still trying to sell it?"

"It may yet be the only option," she said. "But not with him."

He nodded. "Good."

She sighed and looked around the living room portion of her suite, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. It had been an exhausting few days. Sleep was calling and her eyelids were growing increasingly heavy.

"So, do you want the bed?" she asked.

"No, you can have it."

"But you're so big… you'll be more comfortable on the bed."

"You know you're not going to win this argument."

"This isn't an argument. This is a negotiation," she replied. "And I cede the bed to you because you are larger and because you were my knight in shining armor tonight. You get special privileges for that."

His ears tinged red as he chuckled. "What is it with everyone and knights in shining armor recently?"

"Why not?" she teased.

"Because the ideal didn't really exist except in romantic literature," he said.

Evie grinned. "I didn't know you were a fan of medieval literature."

"I'm not," he said. "But I'm an expert on historical soldiers and warfare."

"So what if it was literary? That tradition is what developed into the 'manners' you currently possess dealing with women… you know, holding doors, walking on the right, all that stuff comes from that," she said. "And don't try to argue with me. I went to school for this stuff. So what if it just didn't take hold for a few hundred centuries?"

His lips curved into a smile. "Then why are you so uncomfortable when I do it? If you know what it is… that it's evolved from chivalry or whatever… why do make such a big deal about it?"

"Because, like you said, most men even today are like those knights who never followed the ideal set down for them in a code of chivalry," she said. "I'm not used to it."

"That's a shame, too," he replied.

Evie nodded. "You're telling me. But I am quickly growing to adore it."

They lapsed into silence then, neither watching the other as they both thought about the conversation. Eventually, she heaved a sigh that turned into a yawn. "Please take the bed, Steve."

He huffed. "Fine. I will."

"Thank you," she replied.

With what appeared to be a great deal of effort, he pulled himself up from the couch and turned to walk toward the bedroom. Evie watched him go with interest and only realized too late that he'd turned around and she'd been caught looking too long. She forced herself to meet his eyes. "What?"

"Good night," he replied.

She smiled. "Sleep well, good sir knight."

He rolled his eyes. "If you're going to start with the name calling, I prefer Captain."

It was only after the door had closed behind him that she realized he'd been teasing with her. The thought unsettled her, but she pushed it away in favor of setting up the couch to sleep on until the following morning.

Neither did she stop to think about what the sleeping arrangements would have been had they had not had a couch for their use. But it was the last thought to visit her before she drifted off, forgotten in the haze of a half waking twilight sleep.


	20. Chapter 19

_A/N: Adult situation in this one. Proceed with caution._

_A lovely reviewer asked where my inspiration for Evie came from. My answer to that is that she's a mixture of a lot of sources: a friend who is obsessed with Indiana Jones and is an historian originally gave me the idea, but archaeology/forensic anthropology also seemed to fit in with a boss (Schmidt/Smith) who is just a little obsessed with skulls and occult lore. She is also a little bit inspired by the "Evie" character in _The Mummy_, because they both share a stubborn nature, a need for love/recognition and naiveté in their own ways. Elizabeth Victoria (Evie) is homage to the British queens to create the link to Britain that Evie and her mother have in the storyline. Evie is "queen" of the ranch now, so it also seemed to fit. Mostly I just wanted to create a character that wasn't a terrible Mary Sue, had some character flaws, and with whom I could develop a woman who might tempt Steve after Peggy Carter. I hope I have been successful thus far, and continue to be in future chapters._

_Thank you all for your support, whether you're just reading or you're leaving comments. If you ever have any questions like the reviewer above, let me know! I will be happy to answer them._

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 19**

A long moan slid out of her throat as roughened, calloused fingers worked their way down her bare stomach and played at the drawstring holding her pajamas around her waist. They were insistent, those strong sure hands, as they pulled the strings and then splayed flat across her belly, ghosting up her sides and taking her shirt with the movement.

She lifted her arms, as he pulled the fabric from her body. Long, dark hair fell across her chest as he tossed the offending material across the hazy room. The pupils in his eyes widened when he reached out and brushed back the hair, hands grasping her shoulders and pulling her to him. He was incredibly strong, but he didn't have to do much coaxing to move her. She shifted up onto her knees and moved to straddle his thighs, slipping into and fitting easily into the spot atop his lap which was still covered in clothing.

He kissed her then, long, slow and excruciatingly deep. Those soft, good lips held their own strength, insistent yet savoring, while those glorious hands squeezed her hips through the thin fabric of her pants. She moved with him, needing the friction of something… more… between the contact of their mostly clothed bodies. The pleasure was there… but it wasn't. She just needed _more_ of him. More of his hands and his body and _him_.

She dug her fingers into the short strands of his hair. How could his hair be so soft? A low growl rumbled through his body when she tugged at his scalp. Lips swept across her jaw and down her throat, meeting both of his hands as they caressed along the sides of her breasts, nipples pebbling from the attention. His thumb brushed one, making her sigh. A sigh turned into a yip of surprise when his lips closed around it. Teeth scraped lightly across the sensitive flesh and she bucked once again him, the obvious evidence of his pleasure hitting the spot where she needed him most.

His hands once again on their quest for purchase, drifted down once more, but did not pause on the elastic waist of her pants. They slipped between cloth and skin, authoritatively and seeking. They reached their goal, the heel of his palm pressing against her mound, then a thumb circling her center, making her writhe and keen for him.

"Oh, Steve," she muttered, clutching at his shoulders and realizing he was still wearing his shirt. It was entirely too much clothing for her tastes. Her hands searched for the hem, yearning for the eventuality of feeling his warm skin against hers.

He refused to let her take the shirt off, though, insistent on his goal as one, then two fingers, pushed inside her. She inhaled sharply, holding onto his broad shoulders for an anchor, knowing it was soon. She could feel it building in her, curling, tightening, making her wish and beg for release. Biting her lower lip, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the attention he was giving her.

"Evie."

The voice broke through the haze, but it was weird. Disembodied. It didn't fit with the surroundings. She frowned slightly, clinging onto him and pleasure, refusing to pay attention to it.

"Evie," said the voice again, this time more insistent. It was Steve's voice, but it wasn't his voice. His lips were already occupied.

"We've got to get going, Evie," said the voice.

It was only then that reality descended. Her eyes shot open to a dimly lit room, save for a lamp in the corner of the room. Standing over her was Steve, dressed in his usual jeans, work shirt and boots and clearly not in the state of arousal he had been in just moments before.

In her dream.

Evie groaned, rubbing her eyes the heels of her hands. The bubble of pleasure did not pop in the way she so desperately needed. Instead it stayed fully inflated and in need of fixing. Unfortunately, she couldn't very well accost him now. It was the last thing he wanted, the last thing she needed, and it would mess things up with him.

No matter how amazing Dream Steve had been.

She blinked rapidly to clear the cobwebs in her head. God, it had felt so real. Like she was actually touching him, palms against the smoothness of his arms and abs and fisting in the softness of his hair. She glanced at his lips, remembering very violently what his dream lips had been doing to her, and knew it was a mistake to have looked at them.

She wanted them on her body, reverent to only her. It made her blush.

"You okay?" he asked.

She groaned. "I'm fine."

He nodded. "If you want, you don't even have to get dressed. Just throw your stuff in your bag and we'll head out."

Evie looked at the hand he had offered to help her up from the couch and nodded her head dumbly. She needed that hand to find its way back between her thighs and complete what Dream Steve had failed to do.

Instead, she sat up and took his hand, disoriented and still blinking rapidly as she tried to wake herself completely. She moved like a shuffling zombies around the suite, collecting her things and putting them in her bag. Steve took everything from her and slung it over a shoulder with his bags.

"Give me a minute to throw some cold water on my face and brush my hair?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'll meet you downstairs at the truck."

Evie watched him leave the room and ran for the bathroom, desperate to clear her head of the images still flashing through it. She knew the cold water would be fruitless, but she could try.

* * *

Steve tossed their bags into the small backseat and shut the door with a harsh clang, trying to forget about the breathy moan that had escaped her lips just a short time ago. The moan that didn't seem real, more like he had imagined it, but it had been as clear as day through the quiet of the hotel room.

Maybe it wouldn't have been so disconcerting if that moan hadn't also included his name.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what she had been dreaming about, and it bothered him on a fundamental level, in both good and bad ways. Mostly, he just felt more confused than ever about the situation. How could she dream such a thing and yet still be keeping at a distance?

She thought his kiss a few nights ago had been a mistake. He'd allowed her to think that even last night, because it seemed like the very last thing she wanted was for the kiss to actually mean something.

And if she didn't remember the kiss that night at the bar, then so be it. It was a matter of self preservation to him to not say anything about it. If she wanted to believe it was a mistake and didn't know the other one happened, then so be it. He would say it was a mistake. He wouldn't do it again.

But knowing what he did, how could he _not_ do it again? Especially after hearing that moan come from her lips? He'd always been a proponent of the fact that the subconscious sorted things out for people through the act of dreaming. If this was a way for her brain to work through all of her feelings, and this was the outcome, then he was relieved. But he also knew there was a whole ocean between what actually happened in the dream compared to what she felt. Even if she wanted him in that way, it didn't mean she would ever act on it.

Evie came out of the hotel lobby, looking somewhat refreshed if not yet completely awake. She crawled into the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelt, waiting for him to get in the car. They didn't speak for the first hour of the trip back up to Prescott, when she announced she needed to visit the rest area. As soon as he had parked, she was out of the vehicle and practically running to the restroom.

He got out and walked around for a bit before grabbing two coffees from the vending machine. When she emerged from the restrooms, he handed her one of the cups. "I don't know how good it is from the vending machine."

She finally cracked a smile and chuckled. "If it's caffeine, it'll do."

Steve nodded as they started in the direction of the truck.

The coffee was bitter and somewhat grainy, but it was hot and did the trick. They were back on the road for about ten minutes when she finally sighed, and the stiffness and awkwardness that he had felt since he woke her up seemed to have evaporated in an instant. Everything was back to normal.

"So what's going on today at the ranch?" she asked.

"Just more deliveries. More building of booths and stuff," he said. "It's one of the drawbacks of not having a permanent site—everything has to be rebuilt every year. But we've got it down to a science now."

Evie nodded. "Is there anything I can do?"

"There's always stuff to do," he chuckled. "Let me see what's going on when we get there and I'll find something for you."

"Awesome."

"Don't feel like you have to help. I'm sure there's plenty to do in the house."

Evie shook her head. "Nothing that I _want_ to do."

"Fair enough."

They were silent for a few more minutes before she looked over at him. "So what's the timeline of events over the next week? I just need an idea."

"Well, right now we're building the things we're responsible for and what the city needs to set up," he said. "That's like the stage and dance floor and tents that are needed. We, as a ranch, run the hay ride, hay maze and a petting zoo. So we have to get those set up over the week. On Wednesday, people from other groups in Prescott will come in to set up their booths for the games and food and stuff. We have a few carnival ride people come in then, too. And then Friday afternoon we open for business at 5 PM."

"And you orchestrate all these people?"

He laughed. "I manage set up and if anything has to do with the use of the land. We split up participants and volunteers between all of us on the council, and they're responsible for handling people matters of the groups assigned to them."

"You put Stark in charge of people?" she asked.

"Why do you say that?"

Evie looked at him askance. "I shared one meal with him. He's an egomaniacal drunk."

Steve couldn't help but grin. He'd thought the same thing on more than one occasion. "He grows on you. Besides, his assistant is really one that does all the work for him."

"She wasn't there… at the meeting last Monday."

"She had something in DC to attend," he said. "She should be there Monday for our final meeting. And just so you know, she's more of a girlfriend than an assistant."

A small smile curled her lips, but she didn't say anything. Their conversation continued like this for the remainder of the drive into Prescott Valley, touching on the basic happenings of the weekend festival and things that had absolutely no bearing on their relationship with each other. Steve was both relieved and upset that it hadn't come up at all. Of course this wasn't really a _relationship_, but he felt certain if Evie were interested in him at all she would have said something to that effect. She was no shrinking violet.

A crowd of volunteers and delivery people had already formed at the ranch by the time he parked the truck in his spot outside of the main ranch house. They were working on what they did not finish the day before, while Carlos had taken charge to get the day and the work moving.

Steve, however, was neither unaware of the interest in their appearance nor ignorant of the whispers in the crowd as he got out of the car, helped Evie down and grabbed their bags. She looked at him and held her hand out for her bag. "You can give that to me."

"You just don't get it, do you?" he smiled and started for the house, not waiting for her.

"Get what?!" she called. "Steve?"

"Get that I'm going to take you to the door anyway."

She followed after him up the front steps and onto the porch.

"Alright, you showed me to the door and carried the bag for me," she said. "I can take it the rest of the way."

She thanked him when he held out her bag, and turned to let herself inside the house. He couldn't make his feet move. He wanted to kiss her, now more than ever. Now was the time to show her that he was completely serious about the kiss the other night. He didn't want her to keep thinking that it had been a mistake, because it hadn't. He had wanted it more than anything else in the world.

Evie opened the door and then glanced back at him, halfway inside. She paused and he thought for a minute he would have his opportunity, but she spoke instead. "We have an audience."

He turned in the direction she had looked. Indeed, a crowd of interested onlookers were now watching their every movement. He knew they'd be making comments about Coulson's icy, unfriendly, uppity daughter that they'd only met briefly at a funeral. Others would comment on him showing up from lord knows what with her, looking as though they'd spent the night together and it was an epic Walk of Shame. It was a strange sight to them, no doubt, seeing him with a woman when they'd never seen him with one.

"I know," he replied simply and shrugged his shoulders.

"You had better go." Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but he did notice she turned her eyes away from him. She couldn't—or wouldn't—look at him. "I don't want them to get the wrong idea about us."

Wrong idea?

It hurt to hear the confirmation directly from her lips that she was pushing him away. Despite the damned dream from earlier and her clear befuddlement that it wasn't actually happening when he woke her, she now made it clear she didn't want anything to do with him outside of the friendly. At least for right now.

"Let me get changed and I'll be out in a bit to help," she said.

He nodded his head dumbly as she shut the door in his face. Steve sighed heavily and turned around, leaving to put his things away and begin his day.

* * *

Evie ran up the stairs as quickly as her legs could carry her. She slammed the door to her room shut to keep him—and the thought of him—away, even though she knew she couldn't stop thinking about him. She'd almost made a mistake. A huge one. Standing there, looking up at him, she had almost convinced herself to kiss him goodbye. The crowd standing a good distance away, however, had stopped her from making that stupid choice.

The whole ride back up to Prescott had been painful after her realistic dream, and had only eased when she finally drew him into conversation about the festival. The awkwardness had only increased when they pulled up to the ranch and a group of people were there to watch them. Their scrutiny had been unbearable; she felt out of place and dirty, as though Steve being with her had tainted the perfection of his person in some way. Maybe she was reading too much into it, but she wasn't an idiot. People were judging her and the situation from afar, and her guilty conscience didn't help matters at all.

After all, what could he possibly want with her? Even if she gave up on her no men rule—if she caved and he was able to move on from his fiancée—what did he see in her? She was a pain in the ass most of the time. She always got into trouble. She always needed additional help to extricate herself from that trouble. She'd been around the block more than once. She was arrogant more than she was humble, though she was learning—slowly—how to be the latter.

He, in comparison, was a selfless man. A good man. Handsome and kind and all the things any "perfect" man should be. They were the most mismatched pair in the entire world. There were a million other women better than her for him. She could volunteer for all the charity work in the world and she still wouldn't be worthy of someone like Captain Steve Rogers.

She didn't want to be the one responsible for spoiling him, after she'd already cast a pall over the whole occasion with the news that she was entertaining selling the ranch… this ranch that meant so much to everyone. No matter how romantically or sexually attracted to him she felt, she refused to let herself give in to her wants. He'd already done _so much_ for her, and she'd taken even more. How could she further disrupt his life? It would be better to get this over with, sell the ranch and be done with it.

Evie let out a long breath as she sat down onto her bed. It was ridiculous to think like this, anyway. She had noticed his softening, his slow acceptance of a possible attraction to her. He'd kissed her a few nights ago. He'd shown it again by coming all the way down to Phoenix last night. But that didn't mean he'd done the truly difficult part and finally put Peggy to rest. Was he even ready for a relationship? Did he even understand what it would mean being in a relationship with _her_?

She shook her head and reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head slowly. Her long, dark hair fell over her breasts in the same way it had in her dream, teasing just the edge of her areola. A pleasurable shiver skittered up her spine. For just a brief moment, she could still feel his dream hands on her, massaging, seeking, and finding what they wanted. She cursed lowly and squeezed her eyes shut. She had to pull herself together and prepare to face everyone.

She had promised Steve she would be out to help today. This festival was important to him, and the least she could do was support him in any way she could manage.


	21. Chapter 20

_A/N: My thanks for this chapter go to the exceptionally handsome cowboy in the white Stetson I saw the other night while out with a friend. It also goes to all of you, of course, for sticking around even with all these long breaks in the middle. I promise we're getting to the good bits now. As such, from here on out, we'll just leave it at a solid warning for adult language and adult situations which may be unsuitable for some viewers. They could pop up at any time, so you've been warned. ;-)_

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 20**

By the time the sun was setting that evening, Evie was glad to find that most of the work had been completed. Of course, she had been reassured that there would be more work throughout the week, but at least the next day would be one of relaxation for her and for everyone else involved. She needed a day off more than anything, and she would be damned if she did anything having to do with ranch business, including worrying about dealing with interested buyers or cleaning out her father's things…

However, by eight that night, she was sitting alone in an eerily quiet, empty house with nothing to do but listen to her thoughts. And those thoughts were making her crazy.

Charlie had disappeared once again with Donald—which was no surprise after the scene with the hammer today—and the others still refused to warm up to her. She had tried desperately to relate to them throughout the day, but they had remained resistant, especially Natasha, who had shown up with platters of food for the workers' lunch.

She also didn't have any work to do actually pertaining to the research she had left in England, since no one was back there processing anything through the system. Charlie may have completed the initial documentations, but there was still a heap of work to do. But, frankly, she didn't know if she even wanted to have work on the subject any longer, so it was nice to not have to worry about it.

She knew that if she moseyed over to downtown Prescott, all the shops but the bars would be closed. Drinking alone was never fun. There would be some activity in the valley, but she knew those activities were limited as well, after her outing to the arcade with Steve.

The thought of the man made a strange sound bubble up her throat. It was a mixture of long suffering sigh and a moan of pleasure, ending in a self-deprecating laugh. Their short interactions since returning to the ranch had been awkward at worst and mildly friendly at most. She knew she had hurt him by closing the door in his face, but she couldn't let herself feel sorry. It would only make her weak against him.

And yet… she wanted him. More than she had ever wanted someone else. He was the antithesis to everything she had ever considered important, and he was, somewhat ironically, the man who turned out to be the only one who genuinely cared for her.

Evie groaned and buried her head into the pillows on the couch. She had to stop thinking like this, and she certainly couldn't go to bed. If she went to bed, there was always a chance that she could have another one of those dreams. And she didn't need that clouding her judgement.

She sat up and looked around the dimly lit room, trying to decide what to do so as not to go completely insane. When no opportunity presented itself, she went to the kitchen where she had left her computer earlier. There had been a movie theater at the shopping complex with the arcade. Maybe there was something playing.

There were the requisite horror movies for the season, and then the new releases, but last on the list was a movie marathon that instantly piqued her interest. Still, she didn't want to do _that_ alone. Maybe he'd like to go out? What would it hurt anyway?

Probably a lot, if she wasn't careful. That last time they had gone out as friends, he had ended up kissing her and regretting it instantly. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all.

Even with that thought prominent in her mind, her feet carried her right to his front door and she loudly knocked twice. When she didn't get an answer, she knocked again. Mid-knock, the door opened wide to a sight in which she was not prepared to see. Clearly still damp from a hot shower, he held a towel around his trim hips with one fist while he drip dried onto the ground. Little curlicues of steam rose from his scorched skin and dissipated into thin air. He smelled delicious; it was that heady, clean masculine scent of soap and aftershave she had come to associate with him. Her mouth watered and yet felt parched as she watched—at eye level—the cold night air pucker the perfectly shaped nipples.

He had been preparing to berate whoever was at the door, but the words died on his lips when his eyes fell on her. For the briefest of moments he froze in his spot, but was able to mobilize quickly. "Give me a couple seconds."

With that, the door slammed in her face. He bumped around his apartment, and she was sure he must have stubbed a toe because he let out a rushed curse. Evie giggled to herself, trying to make sure that the memory of his nearly nude body was seared into her brain. The door finally pulled back as he was sticking his left arm through a shirt and pulling it down over his chest. It was such a shame, that. Michelangelo's David didn't need covering, why should Steve Rogers?

"Sorry," he replied. "I thought it was an emergency… something with the animals or the festival stuff."

"Oh, no," Evie said. "I'm sorry if I alarmed you."

_But I'm not really sorry,_ she mused with a small smirk. She tore her eyes away from his now sadly covered chest and looked up at him.

"I, uh, wanted to come apologize for what happened earlier… you know, when we got back from Phoenix," she said.

His tense body relaxed and leaned against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his chest. "I'm fine, Evie."

"Really?" she asked.

He nodded slowly.

"Oh, well… good," she replied. It didn't explain anything, and honestly she was more confused now than she had been earlier in the day.

"Is that all you needed?"

She nodded her head and turned to go, but stopped herself. "Wait, no. I came to see if you, uh, would like to go catch a movie with me tonight."

It took him completely by surprise. That much was evident. But once he made sense of the words, he seemed amenable to the thought. Still, he retorted, "What will people think about us? Are you sure you want that?"

"Okay, that hurt." She sighed. "But I deserved it."

"You did."

Evie pursed her lips together. So this was Steve's standoffish, dour side. It wasn't terrible, but it still made her feel an inch tall. After a few moments of silence, she opened her mouth. "I just want to go out with you, Steve. Every time we do something together, I have fun and it gets my mind off of things…"

"What are you trying to get your mind off of?" he questioned. "The ranch?"

_You_. But she didn't voice it because it would only sound more ludicrous. Maybe a little reverse psychology would help cure her of wanting him so badly.

"I want to spend quality time with someone I like," she replied.

A small smile curved his lips. "What movie?"

"There's an Indiana Jones marathon at the movie theater. I don't like horror movies and none of the new releases interest me," she said.

"Which one?" he asked.

"If we leave soon, we can make it for Last Crusade," she said.

Steve's grin widened. "Give me a few to pull myself together. I'll meet you out by the truck."

Evie nodded her head and turned to go get her things, trying desperately to ignore the lightness in her step or the flutter in her belly.

* * *

As Evie sank into one of the high-backed rocker chairs at the movie theater, she, not for the first time, questioned her choice in inviting him out. Despite the fact that he had seemed to forgive her for earlier in the day, there was still a tension there. A very real, uneasy tension that Evie struggled to describe. It was a mix of lust and sex, at least on her part, and pained standoffishness on his part. Well, not really just his part. She'd been standoffish because she refused to let him touch her in those little ways she had become accustomed to over the last week, like the large warm hand on her back to guide her through a crowd. Or the subtle brush of fingers and arms as she stepped down off the truck and he held the door of her. Or when their hands accidentally bumped as they walked beside it each other.

It made Evie feel like a grade school kid again, giggly and blushing and entirely improper. And yet, no grade school kid would constantly have the thought of those same hands doing dirty, amazing things to her repeatedly. At least, they shouldn't be thinking about that stuff. She, however, wasn't so lucky. As an adult, she felt the full force of her need to feel his hands on her.

So it was just better to remain a decent distance from him for as much as she could manage. She'd accomplished some distance in agreeing to let him get snacks while she found seats, but it was only a matter of time before he would reappear.

Unfortunately, the theater seats were close and it would be odd if she put a seat between them.

She sighed, trying to gather her wits about her. Instead, she watched people coming in and looking up at the top tier of the stadium seating for seats or their parties that had already arrived. There were a few people she recognized from the goings on around town, but mostly they passed her right by as they found their seats. It wasn't until Steve walked into the room that the atmosphere changed drastically.

Evie knew he was popular around town, she just hadn't realized how popular. Maybe inviting him out in public—alone—wasn't such a good idea after all. Evie knew the expediency in which gossip traveled in small towns like this. Even though they were in the more populated and metropolitan valley area, it would still spread like wild fire. It wasn't so much that she didn't want to be seen with him; actually, she liked the idea of being associated with him. However, she didn't want people to think negatively about her.

She knew she had to get over herself. There were issues in her past and also with how she dealt with people and her father's estate. If Steve still deigned to spend time with her in public, there had to be something worthwhile within her. No man was so good as to humor anyone they could not stand to be around. And frankly, it was their problem if they didn't see it… or if she never felt anything worthwhile.

He carried with him a large bag of popcorn and a soda, his blue eyes making a sweep of the seating. When his eyes landed on her, he smiled and made his way up the stairs like a cat, graceful and lithe. He shimmied past another couple sitting in the row she had chosen and stopped beside her to put the drink into the drink holder between their seats.

"Hold this for me?" he asked, handing the popcorn over to her.

She accepted the bag of popcorn and took a few of the popped kernels from the top. "Thanks. Now go get your own."

He laughed and shook his head. He slipped his brown leather jacket off and sat into his seat, laying it across his lap before grabbing the popcorn from her. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she replied with a laugh, resting an arm on the armrest and training her eyes on the preshow advertisements on the screen.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him sprinkle salt on the top layer from a tiny packet, shake the bag and then hold it out to her. "You want some more?"

"No, I'm good," she said.

"You sure?" he asked.

"I'm sure." Evie laughed and shook her head. And with that, the lights lowered for the start of the movie previews and Evie relaxed into her seat.

This was right. It felt right. Steve was probably the easiest person to get along with, and his mere presence comforted her in a way she had never felt before. Despite all her worries about how people would perceive her or her relationship with him, she couldn't in good conscience keep denying the fact that she wanted to spend all her time with him. Even if it wasn't romantic, she would be happy just to be with him.

Evie let out a heavy, relaxed sigh. Steve's free hand nudged hers on the armrest. When she glanced at him, he raised one questioning blond brow at her. Clearly her sigh had been too dramatic, even though it was meant to cleanse away the toil from earlier in the day worrying about the others watching them and their opinions.

She grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly to reassure him that she was okay. When she began to remove her hand, he kept a secure hold by looping a thumb around her fingers. Then he lifted it to his mouth and kissed the knuckles lightly, ever so chastely, and then released it. Evie collected her hand and folded it in her lap again, trying desperately to ignore the tingling electricity rocketing through her body and originating from that spot on the back of her hand.

She was confused and slightly aroused and giddy and completely uninterested in the movie as young River Phoenix appeared on the screen.

* * *

As they were leaving the theater a few hours later, Evie thanked the gods that the movie was one she had seen countless times and in which she could recite the lines. Because she was certain that if anyone were to ask her about the movie—had she never seen it—she wouldn't be able to recount one bit about it. She'd been too preoccupied with the awareness of the man sitting beside her.

He hadn't done anything else surprising through the rest of the movie, but the impact of his lips on her person, no matter how chaste they had been, was violent and long lasting. This kiss was no mistake. It was chivalrous and sneaky and old fashioned. It meant more than friendship, but she wasn't quite certain how much more. All she knew was that the things had suddenly changed in that small, mostly innocuous moment. Or, perhaps, they had already changed and she hadn't noticed it until now?

He'd met her eyes briefly as he released her hand, and she knew he had meant it this time. But that also made her question everything else. He'd said the kiss he'd given her a few days ago had been a mistake. Had it not been a mistake? Had she pushed him to admit that it was because she refused or found it impossible to believe that he could see in her someone worthy of his affection—someone greater than his late fiancée?

When they stepped out into the hallway, she looked up at him and smiled. "I'm going to pop into the loo."

He smiled and nodded his head. "I'll wait just outside the doors to get out of the crowd."

"Awesome," she said. She watched him walk away for a second before following the line into the bathroom. There was always a line in the women's toilet.

As the last in line, she was grateful when she finally reached a stall. But her gratefulness didn't last for long as she watched two pairs of legs pass beneath the bottom of her stall from the entrance of the bathroom. The women gabbed back and forth, and it was only because of the names on their lips that she paid attention.

"Can you believe Steve brought her?" said one woman.

"Why not?" said another.

"Maria's been trying to get him to notice her for ages, and this chick comes along and all of a sudden he gets all googly-eyed over her? What's she got that Maria doesn't have?"

"The ranch," said the second.

"Steve wouldn't use her for the ranch," said the first one. "He's not like that."

"Well, then, it's a damn good thing Maria's not here tonight, because I don't want to listen to her bitch about not getting what she wanted," the other replied. "Steve can go out with who he wants."

The original girl chuckled. "She must suck the bedsheets up his ass. I've never seen him actually _go out_ before with someone that wasn't a friend."

Evie cringed at the words coming from the women. She knew women liked to talk, but this was somewhat ridiculous.

"I'm sure she has some good qualities. Maria's rundown was from her perspective."

"Yeah, but everyone else I've talked to about her has said she's pretty bitchy."

The legs passed by her stall again, commenting on something else. Evie sighed, finished her business and left the bathroom after washing her hands. As she turned the corner into the main lobby area, she noticed that Steve stood outside. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jeans as he shifted on the weight of his feet, speaking with two women.

The two women had the same pants and shoes of those that had passed by her stall. They looked to be about Maria's age, maybe a little older.

Steve must have sensed her because he turned and smiled the handsome boyish half grin as she stepped outside. As she stopped beside him, he wrapped an arm securely around her shoulders. "Evie, this is Sharon and Emily. Sharon and Emily work in the mayor's office with Maria."

"Nice to meet you," Evie said, offering her hand. The handshakes were, at least, genuine even if their smiles didn't reach their eyes. If only Steve knew what they'd been talking about a few minutes ago.

The woman he had introduced as Sharon smiled. "We should be going. See you later, Steve… Evie."

They waved and turned hastily away to go their car. Steve glanced down at her. "You ready?"

Evie nodded, her mind racing as he guided her through the dark parking lot to his truck. He hadn't removed his arm from around her, and when she realized that belatedly, she also realized she didn't want him to remove it, step away and leave her cold. Steve's presence, as comforting as ever, relaxed her and made her think of stupid things.

Like kissing him.

She should have realized, also, that maybe it wasn't the best time to test out theories that had been growing within her head all day. But the opportunity presented itself as she placed a foot on the running board to step up into the truck, but slipped a bit. Steve had been there holding the door and reached out to steady her. One large, warm hand had gripped her hip through her jeans, but it had landed in such a way in his haste to stop her descent that his thumb teased at the skin above the waistband.

"I can be really clutzy sometimes," she giggled as she righted herself and slipped into the seat.

She turned her head to look at him; he was close enough that she could feel the heat of his body and smell the faintness of soap and aftershave that lingered from his shower hours ago. He stood at eye level with her sitting in the elevated vehicle. It was the perfect opportunity without having to combat the awkward height difference. When he began to step back in preparation to shut the car door, Evie took her chance and reached out for him, grabbing at the collar of his leather coat and pulling him toward her.

He was surprisingly malleable to her whim and stepped forward, meeting her lips. His lips were warm and sweet, but filled with an intensity she had not expected from her surprise attack. However, it was infinitely disappointing when the bubble of the moment burst and everything changed. He tensed and his hands shot up to hers, uncurling her fingers from the grasp they had on his collar. She reluctantly let go and shifted back, not wanting to open her eyes and have to face the feeling of dejection his actions had created. She didn't want it confirmed in his eyes.

She didn't want to know what she'd find in their blue depths. Maybe she had read the signs wrong. If only she had just talked to him before doing anything… she owed him that courtesy knowing everything that she did about him.

Steve turned away without saying anything and shut the door. It wasn't harsh, but it certainly wasn't careful or soft. When he climbed into the driver's seat, his demeanor brooked no conversation, so she sat staring straight ahead with a million thoughts racing through her head and none of them making sense or making her feel overly good about herself.

The ride was deadly silent through the busy valley area and out onto the state highway that led to the ranch. But she couldn't be left alone with her thoughts. It was unbearable. "Steve… I…"

He didn't look at her. His hands tensed around the steering wheel. "You what?"

"I-I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to…"

Steve must have grown annoyed because he huffed. His following actions confirmed it. He hit the brakes and slowed to a stop on the side of the dark highway. "You didn't mean to what?"

"It's just that… I thought…" She paused when she realized that the annoyance and anger wasn't exactly directed at her. Of course, she was sure it did have something to do with her, but he seemed to have closed himself off from her for a different reason. Was he protecting himself?

"Steve…" she said, turning in her seat and reaching out for him.

He moved back as much as a man constrained by a seatbelt could conceivably move. "Evie… I just can't get a read on you. One minute you're kissing me out back at Clint and Nat's, and the next you don't remember it. And then you think my kiss the other night was a mistake."

Evie watched him. His anger was barely restrained, but she knew him well enough to know it wouldn't lash out and strike. "But the way… wait! When the hell did I kiss—"

Oh, god. She was never, ever… _ever_ drinking again.

"I thought…" he began, "I thought you, er, wanted more with me. And I realized I wanted more, so I convinced myself to make a move the next night. And you got angry and shoved me away. I didn't think you wanted anything to happen."

Evie sighed. God, wasn't it just like her to bungle everything with quite possibly her only chance at having a decent partner in life.

"I thought _you_ were regretting the decision to kiss _me_! That… that… your past was too much for you to overcome. _That's_ why I was angry! Not because you were kissing me!" she exclaimed. "I was angry because I was _very_ emotionally invested in that kiss, and I couldn't take someone else building me up with promises they could never keep! Why didn't you tell me yesterday evening that it wasn't a mistake?!"

That silenced him. It took a few long, excruciating seconds before he turned to look at her and spoke in an even, absurdly calm tone given the situation. "Evie, I'm not good at this stuff. I know it sounds ridiculous coming from a man my age… but you have to understand I have very limited knowledge in matters of the heart. For the first half of my life I could barely talk to women, much less express my attraction to them; my relationship with Peggy was a matter of circumstance. We always had work to get us through the silent, awkward moments and things moved on without needing to be discussed or explained. And since then, I've kept away from every woman that you can think of, so you can imagine my growth is a little stunted in the area. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I thought it was what you wanted to believe… that it was a mistake."

"So it _wasn't_ a mistake?"

"No."

"Then why did you freeze up like that when I kissed you back there?" she asked.

He looked at her sheepishly. "Because I didn't want to start this damned thing all over again."

"You were the one who kissed my hand in the middle of the movie!" she exclaimed. "You thought I was just going to leave it like that?"

"I just didn't expect that kiss," he remarked. "I admit I behaved poorly."

A long silence spread between them except for the hum of the motor in the parked vehicle. Evie just didn't know what to say. Of course she knew the answers to her questions now, she just didn't know what to do about them. Where did it leave them?

Where—?

Steve reached out for her, his hand resting on her cheek and turning her face to him. "I'm sorry any of this confusion had to happen."

Evie shook her head. "I'm sorry for kissing you while drunk and not remembering it. I can't believe I didn't remember it."

"It's probably better that you don't," he replied.

"Why?" she asked.

He shook his head, saw his opportunity, and swooped in, claiming her lips—and her—once and for all. The strength yet gentleness of his lips were intoxicating as he reached up and threaded his hands in her hair to pull her closer. She, searching for closeness, inched forward but found herself stymied by the restrictive seatbelt. Evie reached down and undid the belt; in one fluid movement she pulled back from him, divested herself of the obstacle and inched closer to him across the bench seat.

She didn't know if it was the wisest move, because even that wasn't close enough. Evie reached out for him, grasping at the collar of his jacket again; she needed leverage to keep her tethered to the world around her. His lips were far more dangerous a weapon than she had ever thought possible. Despite his self proclaimed ineptitude in expressing himself, the man knew exactly what he was doing in his actions. He showed his feelings through deed rather than words.

His soft lips kissed the corner of her mouth as his hands shifted, taking a path along her neck where his lips then brushed near his thumb that teased at the point where her earlobe and jaw met. She made a soft sound, one alien to even her. It was a purr. A moan, but better.

Her belly danced a jig as she shifted closer to him, searching for a better position in the small space. Then one of his hands landed on her hip and slipped around to her arse and coaxed her to move. So she followed his lead, squeezing into the tiny sliver of room between him and the steering wheel to straddle his legs.

If she weren't kissing him, she'd question how the hell she'd been able to even make it into that position—the physics of the situation shouldn't have been possible—but she was glad that they had been. An image of her dream from that morning popped into her head and she was unable to control the movement of her hips, grinding against him, yearning for friction and blessed release.

A groan surfaced on his lips, but she silenced him with a kiss. His hands didn't seem to know where to rest, as they made a perusal of her rear, her hips, until they finally slipped beneath her jacket and her shirt. The labor-roughened fingers fanned out on her skin, flaming a fire on their path, sweeping up her back and edging along the closure of her bra.

Evie sat back on his thighs—as much as the space would allow—effectively ending the kiss, but not the moment. His wonderful hands fell back down to her hips without snapping the closure open.

He was beautiful sitting there in the low moonlight, thoroughly aroused and a predatory look in his eyes. It was a new side of the normally sweet Steve Rogers she had not expected, but she liked it. She suddenly, if at all possible, felt even warmer.

She reached for her jacket, but paused. Did she really want to start with the removal of clothing? Were they… was _he_ ready for that? How inexperienced was he really? What if…?

He answered her questions wordlessly as his hands covered hers, helping her to slip out of the jacket and toss it aside in her vacated seat. Steve pulled her back to him, kissing her lips with a renewed fire. Hands were again sweeping up her sides and back, giving her goosebumps and making her breasts tighten in anticipation for his touch.

Just when she expected to feel the exquisite rough tenderness of his fingers on her breasts, he froze. It took her a moment to orient herself with the surroundings, but then she realized that someone was at the door and shining a bright flashlight through the fogged windows.

A flurry of activity ensued, mostly her cursing because they'd been interrupted and then cursing when she bumped her head on the ceiling and her rear hit the steering column, making the horn sound like a sonic boom in the quiet night. She fell into her own seat and rubbed her head as Steve desperately tried to collect himself. Spinning red and blue lights in the rearview mirror confirmed her suspicions.

"Of course," she said, half annoyed and half laughingly.

Steve ran his hands through his messy hair and then breathed in a deep breath before rolling down the window. The stern looking man on the other side of the window made her do a double take.

"Are you having car trouble?"

Steve let out a rueful chuckle and laid his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. "Clint."

"Steve," said the man, fighting to keep a smile at bay. "You know we beef up patrol out here around festival time."

"I know."

"I thought it was strange that your truck would be parked out here in the middle of nowhere. But now I see why."

"I don't understand what's going on. I thought you owned a bar," Evie said.

Clint flashed his light on her, taking in her appearance, and rolling his eyes. "I'm a volunteer patrol officer. I'm on duty tonight."

"Oh," she said. It sounded hollow, but also somewhat pissed.

"Take it on home, kids," said Clint as he clipped his flashlight back onto his tool belt.

Steve chuckled and hung his head. "Thank you, officer." It was said with no little amount of sarcasm.

Clint smirked and began to turn away.

"Clint?" Steve asked.

"Hmm?" said the man.

"I can trust that you're not going to report this stop to the chief, right?"

Clint looked at him and shook his head.

Steve gave him a hard look. "I mean the _other_ chief."

"I can't believe you expect me to keep something like this from Tasha," Clint said. "You know she is relentless."

"Just try. Please?"

Clint nodded his head. "I make no promises. Have a good nigh—no, have a _great_ night."

Steve rolled up his window and watched in the rearview mirror as Clint walked back to his patrol car and turned his car around. After a few moments of silence, in which Evie did not know what to say, Steve put the car into drive and they started down the road again. In no time, he had pulled into and parked in his spot at the ranch. He walked her to the door and paused, looking down at her.

"I'm going to say goodnight for now," he said.

Evie nodded dolefully. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than for him to join her upstairs in bed, but she knew Clint's interruption was fortuitous. It saved Steve from going too fast too soon, and it kept her from being her stereotypical self. They needed time together with their clothes on before moving forward. Steve would have to talk and connect on a verbally intimate level, and she would have the time to actually be in a relationship built on something more than her need for emotional fulfillment through sex.

She sighed and reached up to run a hand through her hair. She paused to rub the sore spot on her head unconsciously. "Are you hurt?"

"Huh?" she asked.

"When you, uh…"

"Oh, it's just a little bump. I'm fine," she giggled.

Steve grinned and leaned in, placing an impossibly gentle kiss on the top of her head, and then one on her lips. "Good?"

"All better," she said.

"Good night."

"Night," she intoned, letting herself into the quiet house. This time, her aloneness didn't feel so alone, but she wondered if, once again, she wasn't just substituting intimacy for what she truly needed. Quickly dashing the thought away, she turned the lights off and went upstairs to bed.

Alone.


	22. Chapter 21

_A/N: Thank you to everyone for following the story. I can't say this enough! Thank you!_

**Chapter 21**

Steve chastised himself for the hundredth time for letting his mind wander, yet again, off of the paperwork he was trying to complete. Normally, he had no problem concentrating on the work, but going from a dream-filled sleep to a daydream-filled morning as his brain replayed the happenings of the previous night had made work next to impossible.

He sighed and reached for the next stack of papers, grouping them together and stapling them. In the distance, he heard heavy footfalls on the wooden stairs, followed by shuffling feet. A stupid grin crossed his lips, knowing who it was before she said anything.

"Don't you ever sleep?" she asked glumly, her voice gravelly with sleep.

He turned to look at her. The long black strands of her hair looked wild and her eyes were still puffy from her slumber, barely opened to the bright lights of the office. She wore an oversized sweatshirt and tiny shorts. Her body language as she stood there was not entirely welcoming, even grumpy, but he couldn't get over the fact that she looked more amazing now than she had ever looked put together.

"Work doesn't stop because it's Sunday."

Evie curled her lip in distaste. "And the Lord said to keep the Sabbath holy."

Steve laughed and shook his head, turning back to the computer screen.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"You sound like your dad," he replied. "He always went to the sunrise mass on Sundays, and would bring the donuts back to us because they were 'holey,' and he was doing his part to keep the Sabbath holy."

That made Evie laugh. "That sounds like my father's sense of humor."

"It was just the way he could deadpan," Steve replied.

He felt her step up beside him, one delicate hand slipping across a shoulder and then up into the short hairs on the nape of his neck. She ran her fingers through them and massaged gently, her hip bumping his shoulder with the movement. "What are we working on?"

"Quarterly reports for the guys," he replied.

"Oh," she said. "I shouldn't stay, then…"

Steve reached an arm around her legs and held her still as he closed a file and turned off the screen. "Problem solved."

Evie giggled and leaned down, kissing him lightly on the lips like it was the most natural—and normal—thing to do. Like they'd been together for years, not tentatively feeling each other out in the beginnings of a relationship. But he'd always felt like that with Evie. Despite her prickly nature, and her questionable reactions to things, he had always felt like old friends with her. It was too easy to get along with her.

"You've already spent too much time worrying about me and not doing your work," she replied. "So you get the next few hours to concentrate on it while I go costume shopping with Charlie."

He sighed. "I wish I _could_ concentrate. All I can think about is last night."

Evie's laugh turned low and seductive as she removed her hands from his body and stepped back. "I'll see you later, Steve."

"When you get back, would you care to go out for a ride?" he asked.

Evie paused and grinned. "Depends upon the manner of riding…"

Steve knew he'd walked into it before she even replied, but that didn't stop the feeling of a blush on his cheeks.

She shook her head. "Steve, I'm going to corrupt you. Are you sure you want to abandon the straight and narrow?"

"I could use a little corruption," he replied with a shrug. "And I meant on a horse or we can take my motorcycle out."

"You have a motorcycle?"

He rolled his eyes. "Motorcycle it is, then."

"No motorcycle," she replied. "Motorcycles terrify me."

"Really?"

Evie nodded. "When I was eight, my mother had this boyfriend who was a member of a motorcycle gang. Not like a scary gang or anything… but this guy was the biggest jerk in the world. I wanted to take a ride with him, so he let me. Well, halfway through I got scared and asked him to take me back. He just kept going faster and doing stupid tricks that freaked me out. A great way to create a phobia."

He tried everything in his power not to laugh, but he couldn't contain the peel of the laughter that escaped his lips. "I'm sorry, I get it… it's just so random and you're the last person…"

"Don't make fun of me." She pouted and crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "It was an incredibly harrowing experience. I had nightmares for months afterward."

Steve sighed and got up from his chair, walking over and wrapping his arms around her. He would admit that he quite liked the way she fit into his arms. She was small compared to him—fragile—but he loved that he could hold all of her like this in his embrace. It was such a little insignificant thing, but it was amazing to him. Peggy had never been much for hugging, cuddling, anything of the sort. Evie not only allowed him to hold her, but her arms also encircled him and held on tightly as she rested her head against his chest.

"I promise I'll go slow."

"Steve…" she said, looking up at him, "I really don't want to…"

"Oh, come on," he coaxed. "We've all got to face our fears sometime. I'm an expert at facing fears now."

She opened her mouth to continue her objection to the possibility, but stopped and sighed. "Fine! But if I freak out on you, you have to promise me you'll understand."

"I already understand," he replied, brushing his lips across hers.

Evie shook her head and pushed back from him. "Get back to work, Captain. I have to go get ready for my date with Charlie."

Steve watched her walk away, finding it incredibly difficult not to follow her, throw her over his shoulder and take her someplace to exert his will on her, but he knew all good things would come to those who waited. Of course, he could have made an argument that eleven years was long enough, but he didn't want to scare Evie away by turning into a lusty teenager again.

The hardest thing he ever had to do was go back to work.

* * *

Charlie was half dressed in fishnet stockings, a steel-boned corset and a Victorian bustle when Evie walked into the tiny costume rental shop they had agreed to meet at. From the looks of things, it became clear that costumes had already been decided on, she was merely there to size hers and to pay for the costume.

"Don't I get any say?" Evie asked, looking at the red and blue saloon girl costume lying across the back of the chair. It wasn't exactly period or location authentic and the Steampunk trend had clearly infiltrated the costume maker's designs, but it was beautiful.

"Nope," Charlie said, turning in the mirror to admire her red and gunmetal gray design.

Evie sighed. "This is an all-ages event. You don't think it's a little suggestive?"

"Oh, I just have the bustle tightened to the highest level. It's a full skirt if you loosen the ties," Charlie replied. To demonstrate, she lowered the front of the bustle until it swooped just above her knees. "Can't give the kiddies an eyeful… but, you know, later on it can be raised for Donald."

"Why did we decide on saloon girls?" she asked.

Charlie shrugged. "When in Rome? Natasha gave me the idea. She's friends with the shop owner and she knew they would have extra costumes because cowboys and saloon girls are popular."

"My idea of a good time is not wearing a steel boned corset," Evie replied. "I did once for a fancy dress party at university before I met you. I vowed never to do it again."

"You've got to make those little things you call boobs look good, don't ya?" Charlie chided.

Evie began to retort, but didn't. They looked just fine, and Steve certainly didn't complain about them. However, she wouldn't deny the fact that showing up in something like this would be fun. Steve would either stroke out from excitement or he'd be a puddle of goo. It would probably be a combination of both, if her comment about riding earlier had any bearing on the way he approached the rest of his intimate life.

"I suppose," Evie replied. "But why can't I have a more comfortable costume?"

"Cause I said so," Charlie said. "You still have to pick out another costume, anyway."

Evie frowned. "I thought I only needed the one."

"Two. They have the night time festivities Friday and Saturday, but Saturday is the real big one," Charlie explained. "Donald said Friday night is more for the adults and costumes are optional, and then Saturday is community family night so costumes are expected."

"What's your other costume?"

"Togas," she replied, picking at her corset. "We're doing Zeus and Hera… you know, when they were actually getting along with each other."

"I could be the cow," Evie suggested.

Charlie laughed. "You are not going to be Io, I'm sorry. Find your own love story to mess up."

"But I could get udders and everything," Evie replied.

Charlie shook her head and walked over to the chair where Evie's saloon girl costume lay. She held it out. "Go try it on."

Evie huffed. "Are you going to come back and help me do the corset?"

"I will," said a small voice from the side of the room.

They both turned as a mousy, but pleasant looking, store clerk stepped into view. Evie agreed and went back to the dressing room with the girl to shimmy into the costume. When she was back out in front of the mirror, Evie had to admit she looked pretty good.

"I don't think Steve's going to be able to handle it," Evie remarked to herself, turning to look at the profile.

Charlie and her supersonic hearing picked up on the offhanded comment. "Did something _finally_ happen with Steve?"

Evie sighed. "Yes."

"Well thank the gods," Charlie remarked. "I wanted to smack your heads together, especially after I learned about the kiss that night we went pub crawling."

"You knew about that and you didn't tell me?!"

Charlie shrugged. "It was only the other day that I found out from Natasha. She saw it on their security camera."

"Steve said it was probably a good thing I didn't remember it."

"You kissed him and then you puked all over his boots," Charlie said so matter-of-factly that it took Evie a moment to catch up.

Evie ran a hand over her face. "Oh my god."

Charlie stepped in front of her and placed a hand on her arm in a friendly gesture. "Love, if the fact that he was able to move past that is any indication, he's a keeper."

Evie laughed. "Like _all_ over his boots?"

"Well, to be fair, most of it ended up on the pavement," Charlie said. "But there was a lot of it."

"How am I ever going to live that down?"

"You won't," Charlie said. "Because I will bring it up at every opportunity I can."

Evie rolled her eyes and turned in the mirror again. "Okay, I'm sold."

"Excuse me?" said the voice of the store clerk again.

"Yes, love?" Charlie asked her.

The girl held out a costume complete with red harem pants and an embroidered white peasant top. "I couldn't help overhearing you talk… You're Evie Coulson, right?"

"Yes," Evie nodded her head, looking at the costume again. She knew exactly what the costume was.

"Steve always dresses up as Indiana Jones for the Saturday evening party," the girl explained.

"No, he doesn't," Evie said in disbelief. If he was such a fan, why hadn't he said anything about it? They could have bonded over their mutual adoration of the movies. Instead, he'd merely laughed good naturedly at her when she had explained about her and Charlie making fun of each other, and then had gone with her to movie last night. But it also made sense as to why he didn't want to tell her what he was going to be that night when they'd had pizza. He wanted it to be a surprise, or he hadn't wanted to admit to being a closet nerd.

"He does," the girl said. "He does it Saturday because all the kids are there. He does whip tricks and everything for them."

Evie glanced at Charlie who had a grin a mile wide on her face. Her friend chuckled and nudged her with her elbow. "Who knew you'd find the Indiana Jones you were looking for all the way out here at your dad's ranch?"

"I just thought that the Marion costume would be perfect with your black hair," the clerk said.

"I'll take it," Evie said without another thought.

* * *

Steve was still hunched over in front of the computer when she walked back into the house three hours later, only instead of looking bright eyed and dreamy, he seemed exhausted and sleepy.

"Hey," she said, passing by the office to take her things up to her room.

"Is for horses," he replied automatically, but didn't turn from his work.

Evie dropped her costumes off and then bounced back down the stairs. It had been nice to spend a couple hours shopping and gabbing with Charlie, especially after their small fight before she left for Phoenix and Charlie always being occupied with other things. But as nice as it was, Evie found it much more exciting to come back to spend some time with Steve.

"Still at it?" she asked as she walked into the room and stopped beside his computer.

He looked up at her with bleary eyes. "It's taking longer than it should because I didn't save it and hit the wrong button."

Evie chuckled. "I did that once on my thesis. I had written about eight pages in one sitting, was so exhausted that I didn't stop to think about saving it, and I shut the computer down. I lost some brilliant stuff."

"It would be nice if it was just a onetime occurrence for me," he said. "Me and computers… we just don't get along."

"Are you a technophobe?"

"I just think progress for the sake of progress isn't worth it," Steve explained. "They keep putting these things out to make life easier, but it just makes life more complicated. Typewriters worked great. And don't even get me started on teenagers and cell phones."

Evie laughed and kissed his forehead. "You sound like you're ninety years old."

"Sometimes I feel like it."

"Have you had anything to eat?"

"No," he replied.

"Do you get grumpy when you don't eat?" she teased.

He shrugged. "I can neither confirm nor deny."

"Would you like something?"

He nodded his head simply.

"Alright," she said. "I'll be back."

Evie set to making lunch, which was a good distraction from Steve. She needed something to do with her hands to keep from touching him; as much as she wished their afternoon fun had already begun, she knew that he wouldn't have fun until his work was complete. Touching him would just sidetrack him.

She put together a plate of sandwiches and chips and set it beside him on the desk. While he began to eat, she settled in front of her laptop with a bag of pita chips and hummus. It was all very domestic and, Evie paused for a moment taking in the situation, something she had never experienced before. All the other men in her life had never stopped for a minute to have lunch with her, even if they were just sitting in the same room on different computers. There was always some motive to having a meal together. None of it had been for the sake of companionship. It was more than a little nice to have it now.

After she'd checked her emails twice, cleaned up the dishes and poked around on her father's desk—and Steve still wasn't done—she ended up in the living room flipping through the limited television channels. She settled on an old Super Nanny marathon.

Well into the second hour of the marathon, she heard Steve leave the office and come toward the living room. He paused at the door and let out a bark of laughter.

"What?" she asked, turning to him.

"You can deny affiliation with Phil all you want, but blood will out," Steve replied.

"Huh?"

Steve grinned. "He was a fan of Super Nanny."

"I can totally see that," she replied.

He sighed and walked around the edge of the couch, sinking into the cushion.

"Are you done?" she asked.

"Finally."

Evie nodded and glanced at the screen as she shut the television off, then back to him. "We don't have to go out if you don't want to."

"You're not getting out of it that easy," he replied.

"Aw, come on!"

He shook his head.

"You mean I can't _persuade_ you to stay in?" she asked, inching over to him and throwing a leg over his lap. His pupils dilated instantly from want, but he was still somewhat shocked by the action. "I'm rather good at persuasion."

"We're still going." He was trying and failing to keep the amusement from his features.

"Are you sure?" she asked, nipping lightly at his lips and then kissing him soundly.

"I'm sure," he said quickly as he kissed her again and his hands fell to her thighs and pulled her more snugly against his own pelvis. Her knees sank into the space between the back cushions and the seat cushions as she made herself comfortable. It was difficult to find a good spot to rest when all she wanted to do was move against the now obvious bulge in his jeans.

Evie giggled. "You're entirely sure?" She kissed his jaw, and then his neck, and after popping the two buttons at the top of his button down, she grazed teeth along his flesh and licked the delectable collar bone beneath.

He shivered at the sensation, a soft moan leaving his lips. "I shouldn't have sat down."

"Probably not," she remarked with a giggle. "You left yourself vulnerable to attack, soldier."

"I did that when I let you kiss me the first time," he replied. "I'm a lost cause, now."

"At least I can promise I won't vomit on you anymore," she said.

"Ah, so she remembers." His hands touched each side of her face and lifted it so he could kiss her fully.

"I still don't remember it, I'm sorry," Evie replied. "Charlie told me."

Steve chuckled lowly, using a finger to brush a bit of her hair behind an ear, teasing her earlobe and allowing both hands to slip down her neck. They moved in concert as they descended down the sides of her body, lighting a fiery trail in their wake until they came to a rest on her hips.

He grinned against her lips as she leaned down to kiss him again. "You know, even though I left myself open to attack, you underestimate my fortitude in battle."

"Oh?" she asked.

"And you don't understand the importance of surprise in a fight," he said.

Before she knew what was happening, he had lifted both of them from the couch, his hands like vices on her hips to hold her steady. It didn't last long, though, as he carefully picked her up and draped her over his shoulder.

"I can't believe you just did that!" she exclaimed.

"I can do a lot of things you don't know about," he replied.

Evie grumbled. "Great. Now put me down."

"Nope," he said resolutely. "You won't come with me if I give you a choice."

"Steve!"

"Sorry," he replied.

Evie opened her mouth to protest again, but had to stop when he readjusted her weight on his shoulder. "The view's really nice back here."

"You like it?" he laughed.

"Yes," she said. "Now start walking. It's better when you walk."

"Are you sure?" he replied.

"I'm certain it would be better nude, but since beggars can't be choosers…"

Steve merely laughed again and began walking, carrying her through the house to the front door. This was where she truly put up a fight.

"You're not going to make me suffer the indignity of being carried out on your shoulder like a bag of horse feed, are you?" she asked softly.

With that, he lifted her off and dropped her lightly on her feet in front of him.

Evie met his eyes and playfully slugged his arm. "Just you remember payback's a bitch."

"I look forward to whatever… torture… you could devise," he replied with a smirk, sweeping her into his arms and kissing her soundly. As he stepped back and opened the door, he looked at her seriously. "You should go put your riding boots on."

Evie looked down at her feet, but it was just enough time for him to escape without her being able to stop him and drag him back into the house. She grumbled to herself and turned to go find her riding boots.

* * *

Steve was grateful that he had escaped when he did. Every part of his body wanted him to undress her, lay her out on that couch, and have his way, but he refused to let himself go through with it no matter how tempting it was. Not because he didn't want her. God, he wanted her more than anything else in the world. No, it was because, just at the back of his mind, he knew that he needed more time to wrap his head around the possibility that this was actually happening. That he had actually found another woman in his life in which he felt an insatiable bond.

And that's what scared him.

He'd always thought there would be one woman out there for him. He was a traditionalist in that sense, old fashioned as many would say. But he truly believed there was one person in life you felt that pull to. He thought he had felt it with Peggy. She was everything to him for the short time they were together, and he had imagined a future with her that had never come to pass.

And then there was Evie. She came in all wild and crazy, and without permission completely stole his heart away from Peggy. Well, not completely away. Peggy was still there, as alive and well as always in his memories, but she _wasn't_. She couldn't give him the future he had dreamed about with years of happiness and love and family. She had always been the practical part of his life. The woman he fell in love with because it felt right. Evie was an entirely different story.

There was no practicality to this relationship or to her. None whatsoever. But he couldn't keep denying his feelings or the fact that he'd never felt like this before with another woman, not even Peggy. It was impossible to deny the pull, the attraction, and God help him, the _love_ slowly building between them. It was so completely different from what he had expected of finding a soul mate, he had not been prepared for the moment when he had finally realized that Peggy may not have been The One. Or even the _only one_, for that matter.

With these thoughts swirling in his head, he stopped at his apartment to grab his coat and gloves before heading to the shed where he kept his motorcycle. It had been too long since he'd had time to take it out for a ride, and he was excited to take Evie and hopefully help her triumph over her fears. He was glad the thing started after he'd taken the protective cover off, and rode it out to the front of the house where Evie was sitting on the front stairs and gnawing her nails.

When he turned the bike off, she looked up at him. "Can't we just stay here and let me stare at you on the bike?"

"That wouldn't be any fun," he replied, offering his hand to help her up. She slipped hers into his grasp reluctantly.

"It would be fun for me," she mumbled.

He sighed and stole a quick kiss from her, meeting her eyes. "Trust me?"

"Of course I trust you," she said, but he could hear the fear in her voice.

Steve broke away from her and bent down, pointing at the passenger footpegs. "After you mount, you put your feet on these and keep them there."

"Okay," she said.

"And don't let your legs touch the exhaust pipes. You will be burned," he continued pointing to the pipe.

Evie let out a nervous laugh. "Steve, this isn't helping. Can't we just get on with it?"

He looked at her seriously. "No, you need to know about it before you do it."

"When we turn, don't lean into it. I'll do most of the leaning," he replied. "Just look over the shoulder of the direction we're turning. When we turn right, look over my right shoulder. Same for the left. Keep your body in line with mine. If I have to stop quickly, try as hard as you can to not slide forward. You can use your thighs to keep you in place."

Evie gave him a droll look. "Couldn't we be discussing the grip of thighs in another context?"

The thought made him blush, but he continued on, "And through the ride, I just need you to be prepared in case something does go wrong."

"Has, er, anything ever gone wrong?" she asked.

"No," he replied.

Evie blew out a huff of air. "Doesn't make me feel better. Do you have a helmet for me?"

"Not one that will give you the right protection," he said. "It's too big for your head."

"You mean to say you're trying to break me of a phobia of motorcycles and you don't even have a helmet to make me worry less?" she asked.

Steve pursed his lips. "Evie, I promise nothing is going to happen to you."

"You say that, but you don't know my luck," she replied.

"I can get you one of the horse riding helmets."

She fixed him with a glare. "No, I'm fine. But if something happens…"

"You have full rights to yell at me."

Evie nodded. "I think this is the most irresponsible thing I've seen you do."

He laughed. "What do you mean by that?"

"You've got 'I follow the rules' written all over you," she replied.

"You only have to wear helmets if you're under eighteen in Arizona," he replied.

Evie huffed. "That's not the point!"

He chuckled and shook his head, glancing at the bike. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Good," he replied with a smile. He climbed onto the bike and turned to look at her. "It's just like mounting a horse. Though instead of the left foot in the stirrup, you keep your left foot on the ground and swing your right leg over."

She gave him one last warning look and inched toward the bike. He heard her sigh and then take one steadying breath as he felt her slide into the small seat behind him, her weight shifting the bike as she got comfortable.

"Now put your feet on the footpegs," he instructed. The bike shifted again.

"Where do I put my hands?" she asked softly, her voice tickling just beside his ear.

A pleasurable shiver skittered up his spine. "My hips."

She was not content with just placing her hands on his hips, though. She made an ordeal about finding the right spot, groping at his front and making him hiss from the touch.

"Stop that," he said.

"You know what? You get all the fun of seeing me freak out," she replied. "At least give me a few kicks along the way."

Steve turned his head to look back at her. "If you don't want anything bad to happen to you on a bike, then don't mess with the driver like that."

"Alright." Her voice was resigned. "Point taken. Hands on hips."

Delicate hands clenched around his hips near his waist.

"Ready?" he asked.

"No, but I trust you," she replied, kissing his cheek.

Steve was unable to keep the grin off his face as he slipped on his sunglasses and started the bike. "Here we go."

Evie's fingers clenched tighter for just a minute as the vehicle started to move, but she loosened her grasp and allowed herself to go along with it. Steve couldn't help but think, as they passed through the ranch gates, about what it meant that she had given him so much trust. That she had unreservedly given him so much of _herself_ in this simple act.

He hoped he didn't disappoint her.


	23. Chapter 22

_A/N: Thank you all for the reads! You're amazing. :)**  
**_

**Chapter 22**

When the bike stopped a short time later, Evie was a little surprised. She had expected that he'd make her stay on the back of the bike for as long as possible to cure her phobia, but their trip took all of twenty minutes from the ranch through the downtown area to the base of a modest sized mountain. There he stopped the bike in the parking lot near a picnic area.

Evie tried not to let out an audible breath of relief, but she hadn't been as quiet as she had intended. Steve glanced back over his shoulder and gave her a small grin. "You survived."

"We still have to go back," she remarked.

"You'll be fine," he chuckled.

She looked around the area, not ready to release her hold on his hips or move off the bike. The fear from the ride, though it had lessened over the twenty minutes, was still locking her thighs and legs into place. As for the park area, it looked empty but for a few unoccupied cars parked in spots on the asphalt, which was no surprise considering the sun was now dropping well below the tree line.

"Are you going to let go of me?" he asked, with a soft chiding tone in his voice.

Evie shook her head and worried her lip. "What are we going to do?"

"We're going to go on a hike," he said.

"I wasn't warned about a hike."

Steve grinned. "It's less than two miles round trip to the summit and back, and the steep parts are paved."

"Oh, well, then I guess it should be okay," she replied, finally loosening her grasp on his hips. She quickly dismounted the bike in reverse order from how she had mounted, her legs rubbery and half asleep from the position in which they had been clenched. Evie stretched her body out, stretching her arms out over her head and then dipping down at her waist. A few joints popped at the movement and made her sigh from pleasure.

Steve was just stepping up beside her as she righted herself. Without saying anything, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to give her a sound kiss. It was short, but it certainly wasn't chaste or sweet, and he grinned at her.

"Congratulations for making it this far," he said, his voice low. "You did wonderfully."

Evie giggled lightly. "I don't think the whole thing has caught up with me yet, but if I get a kiss like that every time I do something well, then I'll try more things that scare me."

Steve shook his head and fully parted from her. "Perhaps if you did more things that scare you, I might think of other rewards so that they are commensurate to whatever you accomplish."

Evie stood still considering what he said as he began to walk across the parking lot for the hiking trail. "Your offer is rather compelling."

He turned just slightly and laughed at her, but continued on his way, not waiting. She watched him walk for a few moments, noting the way the skin and sinew and limbs moved with his locomotion. His gait was smooth and sure, and whether or not he had intended it, the man had a dominant, alpha walk without the arrogance that so often came with it. He was a thing of beauty in so many tangible and intangible ways that it made her wonder, yet again, how such a man could be interested in her.

When he realized she wasn't following him, he stopped and held his arms out at his sides in confusion. "Are you coming?"

"Not yet," she mumbled to herself and started over for him.

The hike was fairly short, but she was winded by the time they made the final climb up to the summit overlook on the small mountain. Altitude had changed and the air was definitely a little thinner, but it wasn't that markedly different. Steve stepped up and over the ridge of rocks in which they were scrambling and bent down to offer his hand to her. She accepted his help and once on top of mountain, grabbed the stitch in her side and walked around the flat area.

When she was finally able to see straight, her breath was once again taken with the view. Even though she had not come to Prescott many times, she _had_ seen a lot of the forest area because it abutted the ranch and was now used as federal grazing land. But this was different and beautiful with the changing leaves on the trees and vegetation spreading throughout the valley in a riot of colors, not only the typical brown of Arizona desert.

"Wow," she said simply, moving closer to the edge and the guardrail to get a better look at the downtown area in the center of a blanket of trees. "This is beautiful."

Steve merely stepped up beside her and nodded his head. He let out a contented sigh after a few minutes and left her standing there. She found him sitting on a wooden bench, an arm tossed across the back, looking completely at home. Like he belonged here.

Evie joined his side and slipped into the space beside him. The breeze that had started halfway through their hike had increased now, and at the higher altitude whipped through her jacket and made her shiver. Luckily, Steve was like a furnace. She inched closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

This is how they sat for some time. She wasn't quite sure for how long they were, just enjoying being in each other's company, but they watched the sun continue to lower on the horizon and disappear behind threatening, though spotty, gray clouds. The setting orb ignited them in a flame of oranges, reds and purples.

It was amazing to just sit there in companionable silence with nothing going on, nothing to worry about, nothing to take her attention but his presence there beside her. The superficiality of her past relationships hit her full force. There was always something that she was doing, filling the void. She'd always been frightened to let the silence happen, usually because it was the death knell for whatever torrid love affair she currently found herself.

This was a different kind of connection; never before had she experienced such a calmness in a man's presence. She'd always felt compelled to put on a show to make them pay attention to her. To gain their affection.

Steve was the opposite. He didn't want a show, someone pretty at the end of the day to entertain and divert his attention for a little while like all her past lovers had wanted. He wanted substance. He wanted someone who could sit on a bench beside him and who would look out on the world with him, and take in the beauty. Of course, she knew there was an adventurous side there, but he was a constant, a rock in an ever changing sea. Someone who did not fly off the handle or live by his emotions. Nothing could shake the man. He wanted a partner, not a plaything.

The thought simultaneously terrified her and exhilarated her. Could she really give him that? Could she learn to be the woman he wanted—needed? Would he compare her to his fiancée if she didn't live up to his expectations?

"I'm glad you decided to come with me," he said. She felt the rumbling in his chest from the voice, more than she heard it.

A small smile found her lips and she shifted closer to him, if that was possible. His arm around her tightened. "I'm glad I did, too."

"I used to come up here all the time after I first came to the ranch," he said. "I could just mellow out."

Evie looked up at him. It was said in a contemplative tone, as though he were searching for a way to bring up the subject of his coming to the ranch, but he wasn't sure how to. Did it even matter? She knew _why_ he had come, she didn't need to know the details once he arrived. She sighed and squeezed her arms around him. "It's very peaceful."

Silence followed until her questions got the better of her.

"So… what drew you to the whole cowboy thing?" she asked. It seemed benign enough if he didn't want to go in depth with the answer.

He laughed. "Rest and relaxation in a sparsely populated location is what drew me. The cowboy thing came along with it."

"But you seem like such a natural. Like you really adore it," she said.

Steve shrugged and looked down at her. "It's back-breaking work. It goes on twenty-four-seven. But it's not fighting in a war and it's honest work. The animals don't talk back too much, and I can still fulfill my need to serve my country through my command of the Project Rebirth group. Honestly, with all the bullshit in Washington these days, it's kinda nice to actually make a difference for people in this way. I see the results of what I'm doing in front of me every day instead of dealing with bureaucracy."

After a moment, he continued in a thick New York accent. "But I'm still a boy from Brooklyn at heart, though."

She couldn't contain her laughter. "Wow, that's really bad."

He rolled his eyes. "Like it's any better than your adorable muddled accent."

Evie scoffed. "I never made any claim to it being pure."

In response, he leaned down and stole a kiss. "I like it just fine."

She grinned and rested her head on his shoulder. It was some time before he asked her, "Do you like what you're doing?"

It surprised her that she actually had to pause for a moment to think about her answer. "Yes and no."

"You have to explain."

Evie shrugged. "I love the science… the history… trying to piece together mysteries from the past. I guess it's sort of like you and dealing with the government. I hate the bureaucracy of the university world. I hate always having to prove myself because I'm young and a woman. I mean, it's not like it matters anyway. My career is pretty much ruined."

His right brow rose curiously. "Why?"

"You know when I told you that night we did the cookout that my mentor was a tosser?" she asked.

He nodded his head slowly.

"Well, I was the idiot graduate student who slept with him," she said. "While he was still married. While I was still his student. And I was stupid enough to fall into the web of lies that he kept spinning to keep me in his grasp. Every time I would get away from him, he'd pull me back in somehow… until the day I got the call from Donald that Dad had died. That day, I walked in on him and his wife—whom he said he had separated from—and I lost it. Charlie said he was spreading rumors around as soon as I was gone. Any kind of reputation I had was built on whatever he gave me. Otherwise, I'm nothing."

Evie didn't dare look up at him. Instead, she trained her eyes on the horizon and the gathering clouds. She couldn't bring herself to see his expression. To watch what must have been a little piece of her personal credibility falling away.

"I've let quite a few men like him come into my life all the time to build me up with the attention I thought I needed while they're really just stripping away another piece of me," she said. "You know, once you lose enough pieces of you, it's really hard to get back to being the person you should be."

Steve didn't shift. He didn't move. For a moment she thought he would push her away once he made sense of what she was trying to say. That he'd finally realize that she really wasn't worth his time. That no one so good as him could want anything to do with her.

Instead, a hand reached her cheek and slipped below her chin, applying the gentlest pressure so that she had to look up at him. Evie met his gaze, and instead of finding the disgust she expected, his eyes were soft.

"Evie, I don't care about the past," he said. "We've all made mistakes. We all have regrets. But if there's anything I've learned, it's that you've got to keep living your life even if there's a trail of regrets behind you."

Her lips curled in a forced smile and she shook her head. "You're too good for me. One day you'll realize it and then you'll leave me like all the rest."

"I like to think I can decide for myself who's good enough for me," he replied. "And I don't run. I _always_ finish what I start."

Evie wanted to believe him—if there ever were a person on the face of this planet she could trust, it was this man—but in her heart she couldn't allow herself to be duped into a false sense of security again. The problem was that she was already half in love with him, and she didn't want to go through the pain of yet another failed relationship for whatever reason. He was worth a risk, but she refused to let her better judgment cloud her feelings right now. After all, it could all change with what happened to the ranch.

She looked back on the horizon where the gray storm clouds were closing in around what was left of the sun dipping below the mountains in the far off distance. Lightning illuminated inside them, a muted flash in the heavy gray. "Is that coming for us?"

"Probably," he said. "Hopefully it'll die down some by the time it gets past the mountains, but we should probably head down now. I don't want to scare you too much by riding in a thunderstorm."

Evie laughed. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

* * *

They didn't make it back to the ranch before the storm hit, and the ferocity of the storm had not abated as Steve had said it might. Instead of stopping to let her off at the house, he steered the bike right into the shed where he kept it. That, at least, was dry.

Evie slipped off the bike more than gracefully climbed off of it because she was soaked, but she was glad to be back on her own two feet after the harrowing experience. Even though Steve had driven safely through the deluge, it had been slow and fretful, and she did not foresee a time in the near future that she would be taking another ride with him without checking the weather report.

He got off the bike and did a quick check before turning to her. "Come on."

"Don't we have to dry it off or something?" she asked.

"It's fine for now," he replied, grabbing her hand and pulling her through the exit of the shed back out into the rain.

"Where are we going?" Evie asked with a laugh as he pulled her around the side of the house. He opened up the door to the mudroom and laundry room. "I didn't know this was unlocked."

"We leave it open," he said.

Evie nodded her head and stepped in before him. He shut the door and kept on going. "Doesn't walking through the house preclude the need for a mudroom?"

"I'm not staying," he replied. "I just need to make sure my file cabinet is locked. You know, Army regulation."

"Yeah, yeah." She waved him off, shaking her head. There were towels that someone had done—likely Charlie, because Evie knew she hadn't touched the laundry—sitting in a pile on top of the dryer. She grabbed the top one and wrapped it in her hair before starting to peel off her boots and clothes.

If there was one feeling she hated more in life, it was the feeling of wet, sticky clothes on her skin; she didn't stop to think about it as she hastily kicked off the boots into the corner and reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her towel wrapped head. The cotton material made a wet, disgusting slurp-sucking sound as it left her skin. She tossed the offending thing in the wash and reached down for the button on her jeans, but stopped when she noticed the shadow standing in the doorway from the main house.

It wasn't that he was standing there mortified or even shocked. Actually, it seemed like nothing was going through his mind at the moment. He merely stood still and watched her with morbid interest. Evie giggled at him. "Are you blushing?"

Now he was.

Evie laughed again and walked over to him, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him along with her into the mudroom. "They're just boobs, Steve."

"But…" he began. "They're, er, _yours_."

"Yes, they are," she replied, looking down at them. The lace and satin of her bra had made an uncomfortable combination soaking wet. She contemplated reaching for the hooks on the back, but stopped herself.

He laughed despite himself and ran his fingers through the wet strands of his hair. "It's been a really long time…"

Evie stepped closer to him. He swallowed.

"So you _have_…" she didn't finish her sentence. Frankly, the thought died on her lips as soon as his lips were covering hers. There wasn't anything else in the world she could possibly think about as Action Steve kicked in, pulling her flush against his body and hungrily devouring her.

She felt something hard behind her then, and realized it was a wall, and that Steve had somehow maneuvered her to that spot without her knowledge. It was just as she was reaching for the snaps on his button down, with the intention of ripping them away, that the moment burst completely.

She heard the commotion outside. A booming clap of thunder. Electricity sizzling and going out, leaving them in a gray, nearly dark mudroom. Yelling followed by hundreds of hooves and fearful, anxious mooing. Steve went rigid and pushed back from her, uttering a single, "Fuck."

Evie had never heard such a pejorative tone come from his mouth, much less any rude word. It shocked her, but it also amused her, despite the fact that she knew this was a serious situation. He looked at her with a pained expression, then at the door and back to her.

"You better go," she said.

He nodded his head resolutely and went to the door. But he stopped, walked back, and gave her one last kiss. "I'll be back in a little while."

"Okay," she replied simply.

"I fully intend on finishing what I started," he remarked as he walked out and shut the door with a bang to mirror another rumble of thunder.

Evie stood still in the room, doing her level best not to let her mind get carried away with his last statement. "Be still my beating heart," she mused before beginning the search for matches and candles.

She hoped whatever occupied his time out there wouldn't take him long. Not after a warning like that.


End file.
